Chain Reaction
by ContemporaryManner
Summary: Voldemort knows Harry is undefeatable so he plunges Lupin, Snape, and Harry in the Marauder times. They unravel their own history and lives unless they can repair the damage and time travel back to the future, Voldemort will rule. ABANDONED
1. One Rainy Afternoon

_This story is undergoing intensive reconstruction due to several factors some of them being, quality of writing, factual/canon evidence, chronological listings, etc. Your patience is greatly appreciated, and be sure to read through the entire story once this author's note is taken down. _

**Prologue**

"Macnair, I am most pleased."

Indeed, Tom Marvolo Riddle was feeling immensely gratified. He knew his followers doubted him, mostly because what he was doing was so complex, with each move nothing less than an intricate dance in a giant chess game; and also because it was highly dangerous. If one thing went wrong, it could bring the universe crashing down upon them, and already, Lord Voldemort sensed that this timeline was convoluted. His spy, Snape, was supposed to have done something huge, something that would have tipped the war in their favor, but it was already the Potter boy's seventh year; the time frame had long passed.

But no matter. His plan was moving along well.

"Open the door."

Macnair, one of his more foul Death Eaters, inclined his head and extended a grimy hand, opening the heavy, stone door for his master, the Dark Lord. Faster than a cat's blink of an eye, Lord Voldemort's wand shot out of his robes and a red blast of magic exploded from the wand tip. That would have stunned anyone within the small ten by ten cell.

He glided into the cell, and a foul stench hit him so hard that even his twisted human form could detect it. He hissed softly, stepping aside the excretements that littered the bare stone floor, and made his way toward the frozen bundle of flaming red hair and the baby--Harry Potter.

He traced one long, pale finger along the young woman's spine; despite being blasted by an immensely powerful Stunning Charm, Lord Voldemort detected a slight shiver from the woman, Lily Evans. Revulsion: it was not uncommon; even his followers had to struggle to look at him in the eye.

He rose and faced Macnair, "A job well done. But--" Macnair cringed, "But," Lord Voldemort continued, "Why is he not here?"

"My Lord," Macnair's voice quivered, "We are--what I mean to say is, we are--I--we, don't know where he is. He's moving too fast for us."

The Dark Lord remained very still. Finally he extended a long, thin wand and directed it at Macnair, who let out a sob.

_Crucio!_

* * *

**January 17th, 1998**

**Harry is seventeen**

**Lupin is thirty-seven**

**Snape is thirty-eight**

The rain slapped Harry James Potter's face, and when he looked up, great, black, rolling storm clouds swept over him. Gales pummeled Ron's skinny figure, sweeping him off his feet and into Hermione. The Invisibility Cloak fluttered off and into the wind, finally settling far into the reaches of the Whomping Willow.

"Get off of me Ron!" Hermione cried, but her voice was soon lost in the shrieking fury of the wind. Ron lay on top of her, dazed for a second, but then Harry grabbed Ron by the scruff of his shirt and pulled him off of Hermione.

"The Invisibility Cloak..." Ron's voice was muffled, and grabbing Hermione's hands, he helped her up. They slipped in the mud, stumbling over each other. Finally, Hermione caught a hold of Ron by wrapping her arms around his neck, and she slipped, falling into Ron's chest. This knocked Ron off balance and they were both on the ground again, and even in the rain, Harry could see Hermione blushing furiously.

Harry suppressed the urge to sigh in annoyance and gripped his wand tightly...he had to get the Invisibility Cloak; it was his father's...Ron and Hermione finally got themselves up from the ground, but reluctantly so. Hermione yelled:

"_Accio!_"

The Invisibility Cloak flew from the grasp of the Whomping Willow and safely into Harry's hand.

"Don't know why we're bothering with the bloody thing anyway," Ron grumbled, "It's monstrous out here; nobody can see us anyway."

"Don't be so daft, Ron," Hermione growled, "_They _can see us." She pointed in the distance where two dark smudges were against the horizon.

_Twenty-seven Years Ago_

**September 8th, 1971**

**Snape, James, and Lupin are eleven **

**Sirius is twelve**

James Aaron Potter choked on dust, and his best mate, Sirius Black slapped him on the back.

"Mate, shut up or we're going to get caught."

"Chill," James hissed, but very hoarsely so.

The two boys were lying on their stomachs, Sirius peering from behind James's feet, while James squinted so that he could see through the vents into Filch's office.

"Do you see it?" Sirius whispered.

"No," James shook his head.

"It's there. Check the bottom drawer next to the trophies—I swear to Merlin, man, I saw an Invisibility Cloak from there."

"Sirius," James scowled, "You were probably on acid then. There's nothing there; besides I already have my dad's Invisibility Cloak. Let's bust of this place before I get asthma."

"Ass-what?"

"A respiratory infection."

"Ah!" James and Sirius yelled, and then James: "Who said that? Who said that?"

"Well James, the guy in front of you," Sirius offered, already recovering from the shock.

"Oh...yeah. Hey man," James knocked on the vents, "What are you doing here?"

A sallow looking boy with light brown hair and black circles under his eyes smiled—it was more of a grimace to James and Sirius though.

"Same thing you're doing...only I chose to wait till Filch was on the grounds, and..." He tapped the vent, "_Alohomora_."

The vent unscrewed from the wall and went flying off, crashing into the opposite wall. Glass tinkered and then fell to the ground.

"Smooth," James nodded.

"Yeah, now get out man," Sirius pushed James out of the tunnel, and he crashed to the floor. Sirius then gracefully leapt from the tunnel and landed on his feet and fingertips like a cat would. Rising up, he swept his long, black hair out of his face and grinned at a very annoyed James and a very confused Remus Lupin.

"What...is he doing?"

"I've found it's best to not question Sirius's antics. So mate, what are you doing in here?"

"Questions later," Remus said nonchalantly, "Filch is due anytime so if you two were planning to do anything, I'd suggest you'd get it done...soon."

The medium-built but slender boy walked to a padlocked, wooden cabinet and muttered a charm under his breath. The locks sizzled and then dropped to the ground, the cabinet doors swinging open. He quickly took a jar full of clear liquid and another with murky, brown stuff floating on top and stuffed it in his robes before James and Sirius could clearly see what it is.

"_Replucate_." The jars shimmered and then an identical copy of each jar appeared on the table. Remus shoved them back into the cabinet.

"_Reparo_." The padlocks levitated and swung themselves around the cabinet handles again, sealing themselves where they had been broken.

"I'll see you guys around," Remus smiled shyly at the two dumbfounded boys staring at him.

"Woah, man," Sirius breathed, "That was some serious work there."

James nodded his agreement.

"You're in Gryffindor right?"

The corner of Remus's lip curled up into a smile.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm in Gryffindor."

"Pleasure doing business with you man," Sirius slapped his back, and James smiled, offering friendship.

"Quick," James then hissed to the two other boys, "We really need to get out. Filch is coming."

James tugged on Sirius' sleeve, but Sirius pulled away, and scrambled towards the bottom drawer next to the trophies. Among the trophies, two especially large ones stood out: Special Services to the School trophies. Sirius glanced over them curiously, but shifted his focus to the drawer while James hovered anxiously. Remus simply stood to the door, confused and unsure of whether he should leave or stick with these two guys he had just met.

The drawer unlocked and opened a bit. "Got it," Sirius smirked triumphantly, "There it is. It looks just like yours, James." He grabbed a light, silvery cloak and jammed the drawer shut, but as he attempted to stand up, he tripped over the cloak and landed, sprawled on his face.

"Unh," he groaned.

"Come on, stop fooling around Sirius," James kicked Sirius in the ribs playfully.

"Hey," Sirius breathed, sitting upright, his eyes scanning the special services trophies, "Hey, look at this."

Both James and Remus took this as an invitation.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle. So what? The guy has a funny name."

"No," Remus hissed, startling James and Sirius, "He means the other one."

"Oh." James wiped his glasses:

**AARON QUIRINIUS POTTER**

"What did your Dad do to get that trophy?" Remus asked.

"No idea." James shrugged.

They suddenly heard a cat meowing, and Sirius scrambled to his feet, swinging the cloak over the three boys. When Remus protested, he shushed them and signaled towards the door where Filch's shadow was now outlined. They watched in horror as the door creaked, edging its way open slowly, ominously.

"_Move out when he comes in_," James whispered. The other boys nodded.

When Filch entered his office a slow, bubbling rage boiled within him as he when he saw the broken glass—and the missing vent.

"Damn kids..." He growled.

_Fifteen Days Later_

**September 23rd, 1971**

**Snape, James, and Lupin are eleven**

**Sirius is twelve**

"...and Smokes was looking at me like I was a bloody idiot, so I said 'It's just in the crystal man,' and it really was, but you know," Sirius raised his eyebrows at a group of girls and flipped his collar upwards, "I'm so smooth nobody takes me seriously anyway...so the future shall forever be lost on these wasted minds."

Remus glanced up from his book.

"Sirius," he began slowly and patiently, "We were there. It was Divination. We were all gazing into crystal balls and all of a sudden—

"WHERE'S THE BEEF?" Sirius crowed.

Remus glanced helplessly at James who was now smirking.

"Exactly. See dude, what Remus is trying to say is that nobody is going to take you seriously if you just yell that out loud in the middle of an er—serious atmosphere." James quickly glanced behind him.

"But man, I seriously saw that in the crystal ball...there was this little old lady and she kept saying 'Where's the beef?' over and over...and over, and over...and over—

"We get the point," Remus interjected quickly.

"Yeah, but whatever man. It's just what I saw. Woah, James," Sirius snapped his fingers in front of James's face, and he snapped into focus.

"What is it?" he said shortly.

"Chill," Sirius ordered.

James chilled.

The three boys were on the Hogwarts grounds, leaning against a beech tree near the lake. Other hopeful first years were teetering on the edge, to get a glimpse of the giant squid, and all in all, it was a beautiful, sunny day...so naturally, Remus was cranky.

"Why does it have to be so bright?" he shielded his face, "This tree doesn't have enough foliage—

"Foli-what?"

"Foliage. Leaves."

"Oh," Sirius shrugged and leaned against the trunk, closing his eyes.

"Anyways, the tree doesn't have enough _foliage_ to block out the sun."

"The sun isn't supposed to be blocked out," James pointed out, arms folded across his chest. He glanced behind him again.

"Why are we talking about leaves? Why do I have to spend a beautiful day with you two geeks? The injustice...it's almost as unjust as us having to take Divination when Dumbledore goes and changes it so you don't have to take it until third year--as an ELECTIVE!"

"Shut up Sirius, you're depressing me," James grinned, but then he returned to craning his head around the beech tree trunk.

"There it is again," Remus shook his head.

"There's what?" Sirius opened his eyes.

"James. He keeps looking behind him..." Remus stepped forward and peered in the general direction of where James was looking.

"Hey man," James started to protest.

"Oh, I see," Remus nodded knowingly.

"_What!_" Sirius threw his arms open in exasperation.

"Those girls," Remus inclined his head where a group of girls were sitting on a slope.

"Girls?" Sirius wrinkled his nose.

"Yes, Sirius, girls—uh never mind," James added quickly.

"Oh, no," Sirius's curiosity was piqued, "Pray tell us James. _Do you like girls!_"

Remus and James were both silent for a moment.

Finally James spoke, "As opposed to...what?"

"Er, never mind."

"Thought so," Remus remarked, clearly amused.

"Are you sure you're not doing acid?"

"There he goes with the acid thing—what, what I ask you, _what_ is acid?"

"It's a drug commonly affiliated with the Muggles part of the Cultural Revolution taking place now—primarily to protest the war in Vietnam," explained Remus.

"There's a war?"

"A muggle war," James corrected.

"Mates, how do you know—

"I'm half blood, James takes an interest in Muggle current events,and you're ignorant Sirius," Remus sighed, opening his book once again.

"The great and noble house of Black," Sirius hissed under his breath in contempt, "It's not like I could take an interest if I wanted to."

"We're getting off topic here though. James, give Sirius a year or two and he'll be all over the girls. Nothing to fear there. And Sirius, you were asking James about what he was looking at..." Remus prompted Sirius.

"Oh...oh yeah. So, _James_, you have a crush huh? That's so cute...ickle little Jamie is in love..."

"Good God," James rolled his eyes, and sat down. "It's not that big of a deal..."

"Sure it is," Sirius nodded.

Then suddenly loud screaming erupted from behind the boys' backs.

"_SNAPE! PUT ME DOOOOWN! AAAGHHH!"_

"What's happening?" James, being startled, leapt to his feet

"Snape—

**January 17th, 1998**

**Harry is seventeen**

**Lupin is thirty-seven**

**Snape is thirty-eight**

..."_They _can see us."

Harry squinted, but his glasses were fogging up.

"_Impervio_," Harry muttered, and his glasses were clear again, but it still didn't do much for visibility. The rain was pouring down too hard and the black figures were too far away.

"Harry..." Ron began, his voice small, "McGonagall said to stay in the castle. For a good reason."

"Oh _now_ Ron decides to start listening to me and McGonagall," Hermione huffed impatiently.

"You guys, shut up," Harry hissed.

"Who are they?" Hermione asked, leaning against a tree for support.

"They're probably Death Eaters," Ron said worriedly.

"Remember what we're out here for," Harry reminded them.

"But Harry..." Hermione's eyes widened, "We've been trying to tell you...this is definitely a trap. You know your parents have been dead for fifteen years now—

"So You-know-who can't have them." Ron interrupted Hermione, ignoring her scolding look, "This is...this is Sirius Black all over again, Harry. You can't trust ideas planted in your head by--" he took a deep breath, "Lord Voldemort."

"They've been dead for fifteen years now," Hermione repeated,clutching Harry's wrists, "And whatever these Death Eaters say won't change that."

Harry shook Hermione off of him, "They're not Death Eaters," he growled at her.

"Harry, mate, those are Death Eaters," Ron shook with cold, "I have a bad feeling about this."

"We did this before!" Harry suddenly yelled, "At the Ministry of Magic--and Death Eaters have been inside of Hogwarts before!"

"But Harry," Hermione protested, "We had more people at both times, we didn't have wands soaked to death, and we don't know what to expect at all. Besides even if what they claim is true, we'd be tampering with things meant to be left untouched."

"I—we don't really have time to debate this," Harry said slowly.

"You're right man," Ron said quickly, "Let's keep walking."

"But—"

"_Quiet_, Hermione," Both Harry and Ron shushed her.

But as they were trudging along in the heavy rain, Harry noticed Ron's fear still hadn't dissipated.

**September 23rd, 1971**

**Snape, James, and Lupin are eleven**

**Sirius is twelve**

"Snape—he's that bloke with the black hair in Slytherin," James hissed in fury.

"Isn't that pretty much everyone in Slytherin?" Remus glibed.

"_SNAPE PUT ME DOWN...AAAAGH!_"

"What is he doing?" Remus exclaimed, finally standing up beside James to get a better view, "Who's that screaming?"

"Zzz..."

"Would somebody wake up Sirius?" James rolled his eyes.

"Er..." Remus kicked Sirius.

"Uh...what? What?" Sirius stood up abruptly.

"Never mind," James shook his head. He strode to the base of the slope where a pale looking boy with greasy, black hair and Slytherin robes was holding a mousy looking boy with blond hair plastered on his head by his collar.

"_What—did—you—do with my Veritaserum_?" Snape roared at the boy.

"I didn' do nothing, I swears—AHHH PUT ME DOWN!"

"Snape put him down!" James roared, dispersing the crowd that had gathered.

Snape released the mousy boy reluctantly and turned to stare at James malevolently. The boy skittered across the ground and hid behind James's robes while Sirius looked down on him with mild contempt and Remus looking perplexed but curiously so.

"And who would you be?" Snape asked James coldly.

"I'm James Potter," James announced smugly so everybody could hear him, pulling his wand out.

Snape sneered, "Pettigrew stole my Veritaserum."

"He didn't take your Veritaserum," Sirius frowned at the boy hiding behind James, "_Accio Veritaserum!_"

Nothing flew from Pettigrew's pockets or robes. Snape's face turned puce:

"I know he stole it! The conniving thief was—

"You know, Snape," James started casually, fingering his wand threateningly, "We really don't like greasy-haired Slytherins that go around making false accusations about innocent Gryffindors like, er—what's your name?" James glanced down at the boy cowering behind him.

"Peter Pettigrew," he whispered.

"HE STOLE—

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" James roared. Snape yelped as his legs kicked up into the air and he levitated into the air.

"Put me down!" he screamed.

A crowd of onlookers started laughing, and Sirius was snickering.

"Let me help you out with that man," he offered, "_Petrificus Totalus!_"

A beam of red light shot out of his wand at Snape and instantly his body locked up, so he repeatedly hit against the tree limbs like a determined log.

"Haha man, that's so freaking hilarious," Sirius crowed, slapping James on the back. Peter started giggling a high-pitched giggle, but Remus Lupin?

He merely gazed at Snape; their eyes met and Snape's blazed with hatred. Remus Lupin suddenly knew at that moment that his friend, James Potter, had just made a lifelong enemy.

_One and One-half Years Later_

**March 25th, 1973**

**Lupin is twelve**

**Snape, James, and Sirius are thirteen**

"Wonder where he's off to again," Sirius whispered to James.

Peter Pettigrew, meanwhile, was busy stuffing his face with apple pie and pumpkin juice.

"He said the library," James shrugged.

"Yeah," Sirius took a bite of black and white pudding, "but it seems like he's always taking off sick looking."

"He's always sick looking," Peter offered, cramming a handful of sweets into his mouth.

"And besides," Sirius pointed out, "We caught him in Madam Pomfrey's getting checked up yesterday when he said he was going to be 'at the library'."

Their friend, Remus Lupin, had scurried away from dinner hastily, his reason being that he needed to study at the library for the Charms theoretical review the following day. Sirius Black had experienced this phenomenon for the past year and a half he knew his good friend, Remus, and now he was getting the feeling there was something too clockwork about it. Too planned, too much of a deadline set for Remus.

Evening had already fallen, and James was asking a pretty, red-headed girl with brilliant green eyes in a cheeky tone:

"Hey Evans, I'm failing in Astronomy..."

"What a surprise," she snapped.

"...and the sky looks awfully pretty tonight. What say you we go outside after lunch and then up to the Astronomy tower?"

"Sorry, but I have to help my roommates shampoo our carpet." The girl flipped her hair and then walked away from the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

Sirius, who had been observing the whole thing, started sniggering uncontrollably.

"Shut up," James's face turned slightly pink.

"Aw, Jamie," Sirius shook his head, "I didn't know you had a thing for Lily Evans."

"So what if I do," James commented nonchalantly, shoving another spoonful of black pudding into his mouth.

Sirius decided to let it go. Besides, he had another bone to pick with James, so to speak, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to bring it up at the Great Hall. Sirius felt vulnerable sharing his theories and assumptions with anyone except for James; he had a reputation for carelessness--recklessness more like, he knew Remus would interject if he could hear Sirius' thoughts--and delving into serious topics in public wouldn't do his image justice. Speaking of which...there was a hair in Sirius' eyelash. He flipped his hair out of his way slightly, and...

_Sigh_.

Right on cue. The girl who had sighed was also really pretty; the kind of girl that wouldn't have looked at Sirius twice in his first year. Sirius was beginning to think that growing his hair out a bit was probably the best idea he'd ever had. Poor Jamie--if he ever attempted to grow his hair it'd ended up looking like he got electrocuted.

"I--uh--what are you guys going to do after dinner?" Peter's eyes widened in anticipation.

"Huh? Oh. I was thinking I could check out some Transfiguration books--supplementary reading you know; McGonagall's been after me ever since I transformed a porcupine to a perfect satin pillow. She kept going on about how it was O.W.L. level and stuff, heh heh," James chuckled to himself, obviously completely lost to his glory-inflated head. Sirius ignored him.

It was getting darker, and the Great Hall seemed more empty now that so many students had begun to filter out and to their respective locations. Peter had finally long given up waiting for James to finish eating, but Sirius, being a bit more patient with James' culinary quirks, persisted.

"Stop looking at me when I eat. I can't concentrate," James ordered.

"How come you're not built like Goyle when you eat like a giant?" Sirius raised his eyebrows at the dismembered turkey leg James was gnawing on.

"Your folks know Mr. Goyle? Nasty bloke that one is--he ragged on my dad when he was a first year here." James took a huge gulp of pumpkin juice as the last group of girls departed--all second years and all following a particular red-headed girl with pretty, green eyes. "Done," he announced, "Time to go, mate."

"You're a bit transparent James. But that's what I wanted to talk to you about--

"You wanted to talk to me?" The boys were now making their way towards a staircase that would lead to the library, "About what? My transparency?"

"No. Two things: Remus and your dad."

"My dad?"

"Just listen up would you?"

They pushed the worn, heavy door open, creeping along the musty shelf that ran parallel to the entrance. In Sirius' opinion, it was pretty poor architectural planning on the staff's behalf since Madam Pince woudn't be able to see who had entered the library until they had reached the end of the shelf.

"Shh," James shushed Sirius, "I don't want her to see me."

"Why? Can't we just sit down; this is going to take a while anyway."

"Fine. Stay here; I'm going to get what I need, and then we'll go to this place I found. It's absolutely brilliant; you'll love it, man."

A few moments later, Sirius heard a shrieking sound while he was lounging against the entrance shelf. Startled, he straightened himself and was quite astonished to see James hurtling towards him, face covered by his robe sleeve, a heavy, old-looking book under the other sleeve.

"JAMES POTTER! I KNOW THAT'S YOU, DON'T BOTHER COVERING--

"_Go, go, go!_" James yelled, disguising his voice to be deeper for incognito purposes.

Sirius swore as they ran out of the library, a furious Madam Pince temporarily running after them before giving up, "You could've warned me, Potter!"

"Just keep moving would you? Up here--take a right--a _right_ Sirius--SIRIUS that's your left! Damn if I know how you managed to score perfectly on all your exams but you don't know your right from left--aha." James broke off, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Where are we and why did you feel compelled to pinch a library book?"

"Restricted," James offered as if that was enough explanation, "Now go into here."

"That stone wall--

"Just go." James pushed Sirius into the wall; unfortunately, Sirius hit his head and started howling:

"BOLLOCKS! WHAT WAS THAT--

"Hmm. Try a bit further to your left--oh wait, I forgot; you _don't _know--

"Try this you great prat," Sirius shoved James into the wall on his right.

To his surprise, James disappeared. Oh shit, what did he do--but then James' hand came flying out and grabbed Sirius' shirtfront, pulling him into the wall.

"Woah," Sirius breathed. "This isn't very impressive for a room hidden by a great big stone wall."

They were inside a moderately sized room, with several plump and comfortable beanbags, and a coffee table with glasses of water resting on its surface. The walls were decorated with paintings of pleasant horticultural imagery, but were otherwise bare.

"It changes depending on what your needs are. I guess you don't need very much, Sirius," James made a face.

"Sit down." Sirius pushed James into a beanbag before settling into one of his own.

"First topic. Remus. I've been keeping track of his disappearances and his regular sicknesses. The disappearances are always just before evening, last a few days, and after a disappearance, he's always really sick for a few days. And look at this--" Sirius opened his schoolbag, pulling out his Astronomy textbook and crumpled pieces of parchment with scribbling on them fell out from the pages. He collected them and slapped them onto James' lap.

"And...what is the meaning of this?"

"Well, this--" Sirius pointed at the most crumpled one, "Is the log of disappearances I've been keeping. And the other one is a moon phase chart."

James was silent. He looked up at Sirius and slowly blinked.

"A moon phase chart, Sirius? I don't remember this being assigned in Astronomy."

"It wasn't. I did this on my own."

"This must be serious then," James mused, examining the charts, "But I don't--I don't see how Remus' disappearances could be--could be...hmm..." James was now thoroughly engrossed.

"Need some help?" Sirius smirked.

"Er--well, it would be nice if you could explain yourself Sirius."

"All right," Sirius scooted his beanbag closer to James, his tone suddenly crisper and more business-like. "Remus' last disappearence was so he could visit his great-aunt Millie who mysteriously came down with food poisoning and simply could not be devoid of her ickle Remus' company. This took place from March seventeenth to the twenty-first." Sirius pointed at the moon chart. "Full moon."

"Then you'll see here that the month before, from February fifteenth to the nineteenth, Remus had to leave, his excuse being that he was invited to attend a lecture abroad with his father, with special permission from Dumbledore."

James examined the moon chart, "There was a full moon for those five days." He peered at Sirius, frowning suspiciously, "Sirius, please tell me you're not actually insinuating what I think you're insinuating."

"It goes on like that forever," Sirius smacked his beanbag for emphasize, expression triumphant, "We got ourselves a--

"Don't say it."

"A--

"I said _don't say it_. You're barking mad, Dumbledore wouldn't let one in Hogwarts."

"He would if it was _Remus_."

"Doesn't matter who it is; once a month, they become monsters, and that's the end of it."

"So you admit he might be a werewolf?"

"I'm not admitting anything!" James snapped, "We shouldn't be lurking around like this behind his back anyway. If you have your suspicions Sirius, then talk to him."

"James, I will. But look at it; _really _look at it."

"Fine." James sighed and turned to the charts spread out on his lap. He set and smoothed them over the coffee table, taking a gulp of the water that had been magically provided for them before finally focusing his full attention to the meticulously inscribed charts, unusal for Sirius.

**Sirius' Astronomical Lunar Chart for the Years 1972-1973 (Full Only)**

_Sept. 21 - 25 '72 _

_Oct. 20 - 24 '72 _

_Nov. 19 - 23 '72 _

_Dec. 18 - 22 '72 _

_Jan. 17 - 21 '73 _

_Feb. 15 -19 '73 _

_Mar. 17 - 21 '73 _

**Sirius' Surveillance of Remus Lupin Chart **(it was here that James let out a derisive snort)

_Disapp. 5 d. Sept. 21 - 25 '72 ex. : family ferret swallowed by hippogriff_

_Infirmary, breakf. Sept. 26--- after dinner, 27-- Infirm. free period_

_Disapp. 5 d. Oct. 20 -24 '72 ex. : Halloween visit to great-aunt Millie_

_Infirm., after breakf. Oct. 25 '72-- dinner, 26-- Infirm. free period_

_Disapp. 5 d. Nov. 19 -23 '72 ex. : ask James_

_Infirm. lunch Nov. 24 _

_Disapp. 5 d. Dec. 18 - 22 '72 ex. : X-mas visit, mother hospitalized...for what?_

_Infirm. before breakf. (thought he would sneak out) Dec. 24-- Infirm. breakf. Dec. 25 '72_

James had actually remembered this isolated incident. The three of them had been staying at Hogwarts for the holidays--Peter had gone home to visit his folks--but Remus had disappeared for most of that week, and Sirius caught him sneaking out of bed at the crack of dawn. Remus relented, admitting he wasn't feeling well, but Sirius had made a bigger deal out of it than James thought was appropriate. Now he knew why; Sirius had been closely monitoring his friend's absences, and for Remus to try and sneak out meant an unrecorded absence, which would undoubtedly piss Sirius off.

_Disapp. 5 d. Jan. 17 - 21 '73 ex. : needed to be present for home security charm (?)_

_Infirm. breakf. Jan 22-- Infirm. after dinner, 22-- Infirm. before breakf. 23, lunch 23, dinner 23, breakf. 24 (first full moon of new year rougher on werewolves?) v.b. (very bad)_

_Disapp. 5 d. Feb. 15 - 19 '73 ex. : Aunt Millie depressed--no sweetheart > V. Day...excuses increasingly flaccid/then some lecture thing? With father_

_Infirm. lunch Feb. 20 (v.g.)_

It had gotten to the point where Sirius was starting to become as acquainted as Remus was with the intensity of his transformations--no, that would mean Remus _was_ a werewolf.

_Disapp. 5 d. Mar. 19 - 23 '73 ex. : Aunt Millie got food poisoning--perhaps she is possibly cursed with random afflictions? Why the hell does Remus care anyway_

_Infirm. after breakf. 24 (not quite as g.) _

"And as you'll notice, Remus has paid the infirmary another visit during dinner as of this evening," Sirius scrawled onto the surveillance chart, "of--the--twenty--fifth. There you go; and now Jamie, those exact dates coincide with the full moon, and for a few days after his return, Remus has to see Pomfrey because he's still weak from the transformation!"

It was true, James thought, Sirius' records were meticulous--James could even remember some of them--and there were far too many coincidences.

"I still have to ask you about your dad..." Sirius was still talking, "About that special services thing because I--

"Later, Sirius. We'll talk about this with Remus in the morning."

To the untrained ear, James sounded dismissive, but Sirius knew from the slightly widening of his best friend's eyes, the slight arching of the left brow...there was no doubt about it; James Potter was impressed--and grateful.

_Lunar phases for 1800-2100 can be found at http/tycho.usno.navy.mil/vphase.html_


	2. Black and Greasy Bats Dig

**January 17th, 1998**

**Harry is seventeen**

**Lupin is thirty-seven**

**Snape is thirty-eight**

"We're here," Hermione announced softly.

They were at the base of a sloping hill near the lake and a beech tree—the very same one Sirius Black and James Potter had hung out with Remus Lupin some twenty years ago.

At the top of the slope, the two cloaked figures stared down at the trio of Hogwarts students at the base of the slope. The rain had been pouring so heavily that the slope acted as a mini-waterfall, with floods of water gushing downhill, but the rain had dissipated, leaving only stormy, threatening-looking clouds to roll over their heads.

"Voldemort," Harry hissed, loud enough for the Death Eaters to hear.

"No," one of the cloaked figures answered, "And I wonder what you were thinking, Weasley, disobeying McGonagall's orders and traipsing about on the grounds," he said in a cold, sneering voice.

"Snape?" Hermione gasped.

There was silence for a moment. Finally:

"Potter?" Snape's voice sounded, probably for the first time in his entire life, mildly surprised.

"Harry, what are you doing here?" Another familiar voice echoed, "You're supposed to be _in the Pyrenees_." There was a dangerous edge to it; one Harry was not accustomed to hearing.

"Well Lupin, once again you have managed to screw up grotesquely, as it is _quite obvious_ that Potter isnot in the Pyrenees."

Harry's mind suddenly shut down, his body stiffening, his flesh turning cold and prickly to the touch. Lupin working with Snape? The traitor, the man who had killed Dumbledore, who was the closest thing Harry had as a father? Part of him didn't want to believe it, and another part was silently goading him, "_Go on, Harry, go on, believe it. He's standing right in front of you isn't he?_"

Red fury and black hatred swam in front of his eyes--part of him wished it was Voldemort so he could have finally ended the battle here and there...another part was glad it was Snape.

Because then the first part of his vengeance would be fulfilled.

He would kill Snape.

_Twenty-five Years Ago_

**June 8th, 1973**

**Lupin is twelve**

**Snape, James, and Sirius are thirteen**

"Happy Birthday in August, Moony," Sirius clapped Remus on his back.

Remus nodded.

"Don't look so sallow, man," James chided him, looking up from the diagram he was currently studying, "We're almost there. I just can't believe we have to wait a whole three months before trying this again—two months' work down the tubes," he grumbled.

"I don't even _want_ you doing this for me, James."

"Actually," James screwed up his forhead thoughtfully, "Two months is probably only a fraction of the time it'll take for us to become full Animagi."

Remus ignored James and added, "We're sneaking around behind Dumbledore's back, and the last time anyone pulled the wool over his eyes was You-know-who. Besides, when I change, I might attack you even if you're another animal." Remus sighed, and collapsed into one of the Room of Requirement's beanbags.

"Moony, be quiet," James ordered, his tone affectionate, and resumed studying the official Animagi theoretical diagram.

"Look!" Peter squeaked, "I think I did some of it!" He was standing in the far right corner, his eyes still screwed up in concentration.

Sirius, Remus, and James all turned to look at Peter Pettigrew. He didn't look any different.

"Uh, Peter, man," James said slowly, "Your voice just sounds squeakier."

"Oh," Peter opened his eyes, crestfallen.

Sirius snickered, and Remus frowned at him.

"We need to be nicer to Peter—

But before Remus could fully admonish Sirius, a loud explosion boomed throughout the voice, and then Peter's cry of "Jaaaaames, HEEEELP MEEEEE!" shrieked throughout the Room of Requirement.

"Good Merlin," James breathed, adjusting his glasses, which had skewered off his nose when he was thrown about three feet backwards.

Peter Pettigrew had sprouted a five foot long, naked, flesh-colored table.

"That's fairly unattractive," Remus observed.

"Hahahaha," Sirius chortled, "It's a worm tail! Hey, Wormtail, good try, but you're not quite there yet."

"Wormtail," James repeated thoughtfully, "Moony, Wormtail."

_Three Months Later_

**September 2nd, 1973**

**Snape, James, and Remus are thirteen**

**Sirius is fourteen**

Sirius Black was standing off to the side of his dormitory's door moodily. The door was slightly ajar so noises from the party in the common room filtered into even the third year Gryffindor boys' dormitory, which was in the topmost tower, along with the older girls' rooms.

Noises coming from his party.

It was the second day of September, so James had insisted on throwing a birthday party for Sirius, but at about eighty-thirty, Sirius discretely slipped out. He was in too much of a bad mood to enjoy himself, especially since the very reason for his bad mood was also the same person who had insisted on the party. Sirius didn't know why, but ever since their first escapadee in first year, he had been fixated on James' father. There was a special services trophy with Aaron Quirinius Potter on it, side-by-side with another trophy with a weird name on it, Tom Riddle.

* * *

In the spring when Sirius was just about to crack the mystery of the chronically disappearing Remus Lupin, he had tried to look through some of the school's old records in the library. Madam Pince may have hated every fiber of James' callous, good-natured being, but she visibly softned under Sirius' fledgling charms.

He may have been only thirteen at the time, but Sirius was fast discovering good looks and a pleasant disposition coupled with intelligence like Sirius' had could pretty much get you anywhere.

So she had led him to the very back of the library, dangerously close to the Restricted Section where James would pilfer several of the practical Animagi books they would use in the months to come, until they arrived at a very small door frame. Madam Pince unlocked it for Sirius and even he, with his smaller-framed, thirteen year-old body, had to duck into the room.

"The Hogwarts Record Room. Records over thirty years old are strictly off-limits except with special permission from Dumbledore, so I am most certainly not telling you how to find them. The records you might be interested in are filed just up there," she gestured to the wall on Sirius' left, "I'll leave you here for thirty minutes, but then I'm coming back to check up on you. Happy hunting, Mr. Black," she waved at him slightly and ducked back out.

Left to his own devises, Sirius immediately headed towards the filing cabinet with the drawers emblazoned with a gold, curly _P._

_Potter, Aaron Quirinius_, Sirius thought to himself. He pulled on the top drawer. It stuck and wouldn't open. Sirius tried again, but the drawer refused to yield.

Impatient, Sirius drew his wand and recited an Unsealing Charm while pulling on the drawer. It still wouldn't budge, so Sirius pulled and pulled until he found himself with his two feet up against the filing cabinet, with both hands straining against the drawer's onyx handle.

To his horror, the drawer chose that very moment to unstick, and Sirius immediately dropped to the floor. Over his head, the drawer flew open, but it wouldn't stop--it was as if a blast of magic propelled it, keeping it going and going and going...it finally stopped at the opposite end of the room, about forty feet long, full of paper-thin files having to do with past students whose surname began with a _P_.

Sirius' heart sank to the bottom of his chest. There were three more _P _drawers; how was he going to find James' father in the midst of all this? He had no idea the school kept so many files on former students...he had no idea there had been even so many _P_ students at Hogwarts in the last thirty years.

He turned out to be correct, for as he peered at the papers closest to the opening of the cabinet he had noted that the papers were old. Very, very old, so old that if somebody touched them without magic, it probably would crumble in their hands. As Sirius walked along the room, the papers' condition improved but not by much.

Obviously, James' father, having been a fairly recent student, wouldn't be in this drawer, which seemed to be reserved for students from about A.D. 900 - A.D. 1600. Also, whenever Sirius got too close to it, an invisible force field shocked him, keeping his hands away from the ancient, potentially valuable papers.

This was what Madam Pince had meant by "strictly off-limits", but Sirius had an easy time of finding them. If that was her idea of hiding them...Sirius shook his head, dismayed at his librarian's lack of security.

Sirius had been expecting to find one huge lump dedicated to the Potters, but since the drawers were divided by time as well as surname, there was only a significantly slim portion of the _Pot-_ section that was accessible. Sure enough, Aaron Quirinius Potter's yellowed folder was found, just behind his best friend's own.

He noted with interest that James Potter, barely a third year, had already had a marginally thicker folder than his father. Maybe McGonagall hadn't been exaggerating when she claimed that she had never seen rule-breaking like theirs in decades, not excluding criminal lawbreakers.

Hmm.

Carefully, Sirius extracted the gross-yellow colored folder and settled himself, uncomfortably,on the stone floor and against the _O_ cabinet. He opened the folder and glaring up at him was an older, more dangerous-looking James.

He had a tall and skinny frame, skinnier than Sirius thought James would eventually become, and his hair seemed somehow darker, more black than James. His eyelids slowly closed as he blinked, bored, and he smirked up at Sirius, his neutral, grey eyes sliding, judging.

Sirius was really intimidated by James' father. When they were younger, they never really saw each other except at some socialite gathering or other, but the Potter family didn't really care for the pureblood haughtiness and even as a young boy, Sirius had gotten the gist of the fact that the Potter family was very, very private and secretive.

He had been disappointed; the very act of not wanting to associate with prejudiced, purity-fixated families had made them all the more appealing to the younger Sirius who was surrounded by a family that seemed darker and sinister to him. So this picture was the first time Sirius had gotten a proper glimpse at James' father, but Sirius had felt that he was betraying James somehow--James did not like to talk about his family.

He turned the picture, the graduate photo taken in seventh year for these very files, over gingerly, so that its back was facing Sirius. There wasn't much on Aaron Q. Potter, but there were a few documents that held Sirius' interest.

One was a certificate of high honors in Dark and Defense Aptitude. In the early days of Dippet, Dark Arts was still a mandatory course so that the students would be easier prepared to defend themselves when equipped with the knowledge of the very thing they were defending themselves against.

By the time James' father had graduated, the class was dropped from the curriculum so more emphasis could be placed on the Defense part. Apparently, it ran in the family, for his own friend showed some pretty amazing talent in DADA although James admitted Transfiguration was more his niche.

There was another high honors certificate for Herbology and Potions, then an apprenticeship license issued in 1947 under a Master of Potions,Washington Caedmon, and there was a paper--with only a quarter's length of type on it--listing student misconduct. The stuff was pretty minor from his first and second years, like _intentionally spilling custard on Louise Midgens_, although there was one potentially dangerous hex Aaron Potter had cast when he was in his sixth year. Sirius squinted his eyes--it wasgetting dimmer in the room--to see who had recieved the hex, and he read the name with a jolt:

_Sangui-depleting curse on House mate, Thomas Marvolo Riddle_.

Sirius scrambled for the last page in the folder, and sure enough, it was an elaborate, emblazoned certificate of graduation from Hogwarts. The writing was a shiny green color and spidery, with a silver, wax coat of arms sealed in the lower right corner. A serpent's eye winked up at Sirius.

_So this was why James didn't like to talk about his family._

* * *

The party noise was now dying out. The September air was still warm, with lingering traces of summer, making Sirius drowsy. He would speak to James about it in the morning. 

_Two and One-Half Months Later_

**November 17th, 1973**

**Snape and Lupin are thirteen**

**James and Sirius are fourteen**

Severus Snape at age thirteen was a stringy kid, but already he had long, greasy hair that swung in his face, hiding his pallid skin from the world. Snape tolerated it well enough, but it didn't seem to want to tolerate him in return; every day he found himself bearing the brunt of constant ridicule...humiliation...the bullying, Gryffindor toerags never passed up an opportunity to hurt him even.

Whether it was stringing him up in a tree, dangerously close to the range of the newly planted but already famed Whomping Willow, or tossing him into the lake, periodically holding his head underwater magically for longer and longer intervals of time until Snape started to fear for his life.

They were not murderers, he suspected, but they were foolish to the point of mortality. One day, they were going to kill, however mistaken it would be, and not even Dumbledore could avoid expelling them.

Snape had grown up learning it was avery good thing to be defensive--perhaps even to the point of offensive. When he turned eleven and recieved his Hogwarts admission...the ecstasy...his mother, Eileen Prince, had been relieved, but Tobias Snape, his father, had been wary. Wary because the old Muggle knew that Snape would do whatever it took to get his revenge.

So he arrived at Hogwarts, and immediately, he found himself accepted--for the first time in his pathetic excuse for existence--and he was compelled to embrace them in return.

The Death Eaters.

Oh they weren't Death Eaters just yet, but they were in their seventh year, and were already simpering after a lifetime's service with the rising Dark Wizard of the time, Lord Voldemort. They were the only ones who had accepted him, marveled at his readiness to absorb the Dark Arts, his keen wit, his mastery at potions...

Every time he returned home, his father would grow more detached, and his mother slowly emerged from her shell. She noticed her son's growing aptitude and his emerging Slytherin qualities, and she approved.

"You did a good job, Severus," she rasped, rubbing her throat gingerly, "Keep working...the Malfoys--my family has known them since forever...they're a good crowd, and they'll get you the power you want."

And now it was the middle of November in Severus Snape's third year; he was lying in his four-poster bed, the one furthest from the window in the third year boys' dormitories. It was always drafty in here since Slytherin housing was in the dungeons, but Snape had grown so used to it, he always broke a sweat when exposed to sunlight unless it was one of the cold Scottish winter days.

His mind was rapidly firing thoughts, the incantations he had studied that day, and grotesque images he had seen in his books...the restricted books Malfoy had loaned him as a graduation present.It returned to the Reverse Potion and its accompanying illustration; it turned an organism inside out--so that its innards were on the outside and its epidermis never seeing the light of the day again.

He wasn't sure if he dared to try it on one of the school's rats yet...much less a human being, which, surely, was what this Dark Lord expected?The Dark Lordwas a killer, but he would give Snape his much needed power, and he would have his final validation and revenge against his father and all Muggles like him.

Surely all the Muggles were as ignorant and stupid as his father.

These thoughts took up merely a few seconds in Snape's overworked mind. He raced and raced, his head spinning around in circles, and he tossed and turned in his bed. It seemed that no matter what position he slept in, it simply was too hot--

Cold. What was that? He tensed, but he knew all was lost. How stupid he had been, how completely ignorant. He'd been caught off guard and now he was about to pay it with his life. The cold, steel blade pressed harder against his neck.

"Snape," a man's voice hissed, dripping with hatred.

How had he already made enemies? His worst enemies were no older than fourteen and were in Gryffindor, not fully grown, dangerous wizards.

_The Death Eaters._

But they weren't enemies. They were...friends weren't they?

It was at this moment that Snape realized that no one was a friend. Every one was an enemy...except those select few that just might be foolish enough to actually have your best interests at heart--but then they would screw it up, and endanger you in the process.

And it was this that Snape would carry with him for the rest of his school years and even as an adult, looming and striking fear into the hearts of the generations that would sprout from his contemporaries...as an adult when he would work for both Voldemort and Dumbledore.

"I should kill you right now." The blade pressed deeper, and Snape felt a trickle of blood escape. He was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it; except...except he detected a bit of uncertainty in the assaultor's voice.

"Who are you?" Snape said softly, his back still turned from the man.

He felt the knife jerk, but away from his skin and he let out an internal sigh of relief although he maintained his surface with rigid control.

"I...I can't do this. I've been a fool. I thought I would be able to change everything, but...but you're just a kid aren't you? You're not the old bat, the greasy git--yet. Maybe James was right; everyone needs a chance to grow."

The knife was now completely pulled away. Snape siezed the opportunity to slowly edge his hand towards the wand he kept tucked under the bedcovers, but all the while rage was coursing throughout him.

Potter! He couldn't believe it. When he had been giving Potter the benefit of doubt--that his foolishness would be to blame for any possible mortalities--a hired assassin had almost immediately popped up at his bedside. But a tinge of doubt still nagged at him.

Potter was just fourteen and stupid. He may have hated Snape, but Snape suspected it was because of his incredible (and unreasonable) animosity for the Dark Arts, something that it was widely known was Snape's area of expertise. Potter did not hate just for the sake of hatred and the consuming power it usually accompanied.

A voice rang in Snape's head: it was Lucius Malfoy's.

_You have the Potter boy, eh? Pureblood family, but he's obviously gone to seed, _Lucius sniffed, _a Gryffindor. Can you imagine? Probably the first one in generations--they're pureblood but they haven't had a Gryffindor since about the eighteenth century. Of course, they're all idiots. Aaron Potter begs to do business with my father, but Father says 'no' of course--they're all great idiots._

But then Rodolphous Lestrange pulled Snape, then eleven years old, aside and carefully informed Snape that Lucius was, as usual, full of crap.

His oily face had broken into a sneering smirk, contorting his already unattractive expression; it was in fact, Aaron Potter who refused to do business with Malfoy Sr. Malfoy Sr. had begged Potter Sr. for years, Lestrange had said, nodding as he spoke, but Potter had some kind of standard--a code of morals, which was unusual for the man had been in Slytherin.

Ambition knows no ettiquette.

However, Snape had been left with the distinct impression that the golden boy, James Potter, had a family background that was certainly quite muddied...Potter Sr. did some nasty business and Malfoy wanted in, but Aaron Potter had said 'no' because apparently, Malfoy Sr. was too nasty for his taste.

"Potter didn't send you," Snape growled, "He's too soft." His hand gripped around his wand.

"No, nobody sent me. I thought maybeI could preserve the future, but I was wrong. I have to trust James...and Harry."

Snape bolted upright so fast that if lightning had struck the spot, he would have surely escaped him.

Only one spell flitted through his mind--the one spell he could remember from the day's reading:

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

The green jet of light burst from the tip of his wand, but instead of hitting somebody, it passed right through the air where Snape had been sure his assailant had been and struck somebody's bed's curtains.

The curtains instantly caught fire, and soon enough, there were yelps and shouts as all of the dungeons woke up in the middle of the night.

* * *

"You used an Unforgivable Curse, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly, his eyes grave as they peered over his half-moon lenses. 

Snape, for the first time, was unusual about what to do. So he did the only thing he could think of at the time; and it was, for a fact, the last time Severus Snape did it.

He told the truth.

"I see," Dumbledore frowned. "There was a man. He had a knife to your throat and so you decided to cast the Killing Curse, but then he disappears and you end up nearly taking your House mate's life?"

Bile choked Snape's throat; was the old man actually ridiculing him? Condescension? Snape searched his Headmaster's eyes, but there was none of the sympathy, none of the willingness to listen that he had so often seen displayed for James Potter...and Sirius Black...and Remus Lupin!

Instead there was suspicion, distrust, and concern. That was the worst. Snape did not need concern; hadn't he proved himself able, contradictory to his mostly Muggle heritage? He had _forsaken_ his Muggle side, completely embraced the Prince within him, and yet, he had his compentency doubted by one of the greatest Muggle-lovers and old fools!

"I am telling you what I know sir," Snape declared, his voice tight. Vengeance, vengeance, he will pay one day.

They were in Dumbledore's office--alone. At least the man had the common sense to make this affair private and not drag the other Professors into it; the whole school didn't have to know about the illegal Curse Snape had cast to defend his own life. He almost wished they did--that way they would know to never ridicule him...or assault him when they were all grown.

"There was a presence," Dumbledore relented; he had no idea how furious he was making Snape.

Was the old man acting like he was doing Snape a favor by admitting what was so obviously true--that there had been a man _who threatened his life_ and Dumbledore was doing nothing about it.

If he had threatened Potter's life, Dumbledore probably would have put the whole school alert, sent Hit Wizards, and had the whole Ministry and Wizengamot after the murderer.

"You are all right, I hope?" Dumbledore allowed a small, comforting smile, "It was very quick thinking Severus, but I had hoped you would turn to Defense...not murder--

"An eye for an eye, Headmaster," Snape interrupted. The expression on Dumbledore's face grew even more concerned and filled with...regret?

"You remind me so much of--of a young man I once taught not long ago. I can only hope that you make the right choices when you are here at Hogwarts, Severus, for the wrong ones will surely lead you astray and onto the same path that Tom Riddle took. Severus, please listen to me; I am confiding something into you that I have never confided into any student before."

Snape's interest grew, although he had been diverting his complete attention to the Headmaster for the whole time. It was just his misleading bored expression that threw Dumbledore and so many others before him off.

"This young man was talented; he was a gifted student, but he too, had an unhappy childhood. His mother was a pureblood witch, his father a Muggle. He came to Hogwarts in a position very much similar to yours, Severus, but it was my personal belief that he had an unimaginable streak of cruelty within him. One he always kept concealed."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrow at Snape knowingly, perhaps acknowledging Snape's rigid control and his care to conceal his feelings.

"But as Tom Riddle grew, the cruelty turned to something I never could have imagined--you may think me vain, foolish, and I readily accept this for I _was _vain and foolish--for me to never imagine that a student of mine could actually have..._evil_ in him...once he graduated.

Severus...this man went on to kill his father and grandparents--then he disappeared from the face of the earth, only to return just a few years earlier."

Snape's blood ran cold. Was Dumbledore talking about who Snape thought he actually dared to mention?

"The man I am speaking of came to be publicly known as Lord Voldemort. Be careful, Severus," Dumbledore lowered his head, his eyes peering at Snape over from his spectacles once more.

"And now I bid you a good night."

"Do you know who tried to kill me?" Snape asked bluntly.

He wanted to remind Dumbledore that he was indebted to Snape for not protecting him like he would have protected his favorites, his _Gryffindors_.

He was glad to see something like shame flicker across Dumbledore's face.

"I am very sorry, Severus; you handled yourself remarkably, but the fault lies with me. I hope you will forgive me," Dumbledore gazed at Snape searchingly, "The man who tried to kill you was a former Hogwarts student by the name of Arthur John Torrence."

"He had red hair," Snape remarked sullenly, _"He had red hair, and he was a coward."_

Arthur Torrence had tried to kill Snape. Snape would one day return the favor.


	3. A Riddle to Solve

**January 17th, 1998**

**Harry is seventeen**

**Lupin is thirty-seven**

**Snape is thirty-eight**

"This isn't what you think, Harry--" Lupin attempted to begin to explain, before Severus Snape interrupted him quite rudely:

"I'd suggest you get moving, Potter," Snape said coldly.

Hate boiled up into Harry. He still would never forgive Snape—never...

"Of course Voldemort has me where he wants me! SNAPE IS HERE! Or did you forget that because of him, the Order's stronghold is DEAD!"

"Harry!" Lupin roared, "Go back NOW!"

"For all I know, the tip you gave me was _nothing_...there's probably nothing waiting for me in the Pyrenees other than mountains and snow is there?" Harry kept his voice cool and controlled, his brilliant, dark green eyes shooting daggers at Lupin, daring to question the werwolf's loyalty.

Hermione and Ron were startled out of submission and pulled Harry away urgently.

"Harry, they're right," Hermione pleaded, "Voldemort lured you out here for a reason. We _have_ to go back...and you, Harry, you committed to the Order, and you should have NEVER returned here in the first place--"

"She's right man—

But Ron went white, his face collapsing.

"NO!" Hermione screamed, tears already streaming down her face.

"What? What happ—

Ron collapsed to the ground, without a trace of foul play on him.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" Lupin roared, "GET OUT! GET McGONAGALL!"

Snape was already screaming curses and spells at a group of Death Eaters that surrounded a lone figure in the middle—white face, red eyes...Snape? He wasn't on their side...why was he...Harry's mind grew hazy, but then he snapped back to reality: Ron was dead and his goal was to kill Voldemort...and Snape. He wanted to save Snape for last because it was Snape who had caused him the most pain...Voldemort may have taken his parents, but now he was about to give them back, but it was Snape who took everything else...Harry's last hopes...murdered, hatred...

Harry screamed with rage and hurtled himself at the Death Eaters.

"YOU—KILLED—RON!"

"HARRY!" Hermione sobbed, raising her wand, shaking, "_Petrificus Totalus!_"

Harry froze and collapsed.

"MOVE! I NEED TO APPARATE YOU THREE BACK—

"I'm afraid you're too late Lupin," a high, cold voice said.

Harry lay on the ground staring up the sky—the clouds were sparking with electricity...

"It starts...now."

A bolt of lightning laced down, diverging in three separate bolts. One struck Snape, who was at the highest ground, and was, very peculiarly, delivering killing curses at the Death Eaters, another at Lupin, and the last at—

Harry Potter.

Hermione Granger watched in horror, as Harry, still frozen from her hex, flickered and disappeared into thin air as if the lightning had sucked him through and transported him to a differnt place...and time. Voldemort was still cackling, his voice high and cold, but now laced with a glee that had been missing for a very long time. But then Hermione saw something that Voldemort missed. She was sure that some of his Death Eaters, the surviving ones anyway, saw too. Another lightning bolt had streaked towards the ground, from the sky, and it hit two more people.

Just two more.

_Twenty-four Years Ago_

**January 12th, 1974**

**Lupin is thirteen**

**Snape, James, and Sirius are fourteen**

They were all in the Room of Requirement again, but this time it was James who was doing most of the attempts at becoming an Animagus. Occasionally, he would sprout some heavy, dark fur, and then on the better days he would have a noticeably darker, moist nose and little horns growing out of his head. Remus Lupin had joked that perhaps James' Animagus form was a devil-creature.

It was the middle of their third year, but Sirius had not yet confronted James about what he had found in the Record Room. The result was Sirius' mood kept getting darker and darker, and he became more snappish towards Peter. Remus, with his uncanny ability to observe bestial relationships, had even grown so concerned with Sirius and James' treatment of Peter that Remus had confronted the two of them one late night, when dinner was long over.

* * *

"You have to be careful with Peter," Remus hissed, "We're all going to become men one day, and this will come back to haunt you." 

James and Sirius simply stared at their friend, unsure how to react. Finally, James let out a huge snort, and Sirius stuffed his mouth with his fist, choking back hysterical laughter.

" 'We're all going to become men one day' ?" James chortled, "Remus, listen to yourself! You sound like my--

James suddenly broke off, and Sirius stiffened--Aaron Potter was still a touchy topic with the both of them although James hadn't realized Sirius knew so much about his father's backstory. Remus just scowled, angry at being laughed at, and slightly confused about the sudden pause in his two friends' hysterics.

"Take it however lightly you want," he said coolly, "But I don't understand how you can be willing to put through so much effort into this Animagus project for me and not even be nice to one of your friends even when I ask you to." And he left the two boys standing in the common room, to get some sleep. The food had been heavy and Remus' stomach was not accustomed to the switch so soon after the holiday break. His family lived on very little sustenance.

James and Sirius held back, a bit abashed from their behavior. A thought flickered through James' mind, just a glimmer of the impending maturity that would finally win its long tug-of-war with the tyrannical immaturity that presently governed James:

_I'm only doing the Animagus thing for my own advantage. _

James' face flushed with hot shame and he swiftly turned his back to his cohort, Sirius, and followed his friend, Remus, up to the third year dormitories to get some sleep.

* * *

"James, we need to talk." 

It was ten at night, and James and Sirius were both in the common room, still studying the Animagi diagrams and psychology. Remus, unable to become an Animagus since he was a werewolf, had already gone to bed, and Peter, having just given up, followed, so they were left alone. Sirius' mood had gotten so bad, that the random impulse tojust confront James had finally burst to surface, and with a vengeance.

"About what?" James snapped, and instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry mate, but it's late; can this wait--

"No," Sirius let go of James' arm, "It's been waiting for a while."

...and Sirius told James the whole story of the Record Room and the files with all the certificates of achievements and such, and finally, he was asked by James:

"Why are you so interested in my father?" his tone was suddenly hot and defensive.

Sirius shrugged, "I don't know. It's so weird, man, I just can't get that huge trophy out of my mind from first year--just slipping like that and the first thing I see is this old silver thing, it was so brilliant, and...this is weird," he repeated, "but when I saw those two names, I didn't feel happy anymore."

"You didn't feel happy anymore?" James frowned, a bit unsure what to make of this.

"Yeah, it was like one of those dementors. You know, how Regulus keeps talking about them--just because he went to Azkaban with our father-" Sirius broke off, his face cold with the fury he felt towards his little brother, who he felt would be even more of a toerag when they were adults, like the rest of the Blacks.

"Did you even find out who Tom Riddle was?"

"No mate, I wanted to do that with you. But what did your father do for that special service thing?"

"You know," James said slowly, standing up from one of the armchairs they had been seated in, "He never told me. I knew he did something big when he was in Hogwarts because Dumbledore always mentioned it every time he came to visit--and that was only when he wanted something from Dad--but he would never tell me." James' eyes slowly slid over, locking onto Sirius'.

"Black, let's go raid Filch's office."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, a silvery cloak fluttered onto a cold, uneven, cobbled floor, a slight breeze whispering as it settled, its folds resting on top of another. Two pairs of feet moved silently towards a display case, lit by a magical charm that a professor had probably placed several years ago, the light rebounding off the trophies inside, gleaming. 

"Where is he anyway?" Sirius whispered, his voice so soft that it was almost trembling.

"No idea," James smirked, his voice just a bit louder, "So we'd better hurry, huh?"

"Whatever Jamie," Sirius traced his finger over the _T_ in _Tom _on one of the larger silver trophies. "So what are we here for? This won't tell us what your Dad did for the school."

"Each trophy has a scroll inside stating the celebrated deed."

Sirius stared at James.

"It's a quote, jeez man," James hissed defensively, "McGonagall said so."

But Sirius wasn't listening at all. He was staring, eyes as wide as saucers, to the spot next to the special services award to Tom Riddle, the spot where Aaron Potter's trophy should have been

_Should have been. _

"It's gone," James stated, his voice despondent.

"Well fuck me," Sirius growled.

"Huh?" James blinked at his friend.

"Come on, mate, this night isn't going to end until we get to the bottom of this," Sirius pulled James roughly along by the wrist, grabbing the Invisibility Cloak on their way out.

Once they were outside, Sirius swept the cloak over the two of them, and he took the lead. When James attempted to ask where they were going, Sirius just shushed him, and kept on walking...towards the library.

"Madam Pince--

"Is asleep," Sirius finished, "And I know how to get in. Just trust me."

They arrived at the misleadingly tiny door of the enormous library, and Sirius took out a pocketknife from his pocket--

"Where did you get that?" James demanded, offended that Sirius had never shown it to him.

"Shut up, Jamie," Sirius said kindly, "It's too valuable to show just anyone."

Sure enough, the door popped open and Sirius muttered a silencing charm to disquiet any alarms or any other kind of auditorial security measures. Impressed and shamed into silence by his friend's remarkable breaking-in skills, James followed Sirius into the short hallway of books before they stepped into the open area that was in the center of the library. Tall shelves of books were bent oddly, to configure with the library's circular shape, and as a result, it was gloomy and very scary at night. At least it would be scary to some people, but as practiced marauders in all things nocturnal, James and Sirius' footing was confident and sure.

"This way," Sirius whispered, "Be sure to overstep the red beams. Silent alarms leading directly to Pince's chambers."

"This is too easy," James muttered, "Maybe somebody wants us to find...whatever it is you're looking for, but not anybody else."

"Who would do that?" Sirius dismissed it.

_Dumbledore_, James thought, grim. It was the sort of thing he knew the elderly man would do, having watched him manipulate his sometimes shady father into doing certain 'jobs' for him for the good of wizarding and mankind when James was younger.

Finally, they had arrived at an even smaller door. Above the door were tarnished brass letters, some crooked and some straight, labeling the room, 'The Hogwarts Record Room'.

"After you," James whispered.

"Fine," Sirius stood upright and swished the cloak off of the two boys. "Damned thing; it's getting harder to move around in it." James glared at Sirius and snatched the cloak from his friend's clutches and folded it gingerly, carefully. When he looked back up, Sirius had disappeared into the room, so James followed.

Behind him, the door shut--he stifled a yelp, but relaxed when he heard Sirius' chuckles.

"Don't do that," he said angrily.

"It's all right, Jamie," Sirius' voice was soothing but condescending all the same, "Now shall we have a look?" Sirius moved towards the filing cabinets that lined the wall to James' right, and opened a drawer--hebarely had time to make out agold, emblazoned _P _before Sirius pushed James to the floor.

"Duck!"

The drawer suddenly zoomed open, flying over their heads, the whole room rumbling with the magical force that propelled the forty-something-foot long drawer. Once the rumbling had ceased, the two boys climbed to their feet once they crawled out of range.

"Here we are," Sirius announced, "Potter, Aaron Quirinius." He pulled out a yellowing, but completely intact folder. "Damn this is heavy--oh man, I don't remember it being this heavy..." Sirius trailed off as he strained to set the folder to the floor without it clattering.

James smirked at the sweat that was now popping from Sirius' forehead, "It's a paper folder mate, what's so heavy--

Sirius thrust it into James' chest and James immediately fell over backwards, the folder's weight crushing his chest. Baffled, he sat up, the folder in his lap--how could something so thin and light be...heavy?

"Open it," Sirius urged, squatting himself onto the floor. When James didn't immediately tear it open, Sirius roughly opened the top flap, and the sight which they beheld was quite unexpected.

It was a silver trophy.

Correction: a silver trophy on top of the slim, modest stack of papers recording Potter, Aaron Quirinius' stay at Hogwarts.

"Holy shit," Sirius murmured. That was all that needed to be said.

James strained to lift the trophy onto the ground, in front of Sirius, and he studied his father's seventh year picture, his face grave.

"He looks like an older me," he said, "Only...only the way he looks now," James finished with a sigh. In the picture, Aaron Potter furrowed his brows, his neutral grey eyes turning gloomy. The portrait then rolled his eyes upwards and shook his shoulders, straightening his arms.

"Yup, that's him," James sighed. His father's shoulder-arm gesture was the equivalent to James' intentionally rumpling his hair to make it more wind-blown even if he was just coming from Quidditch.

"Hey," Sirius handed a nice-looking scroll, even if it was yellowed a bit around the corners, to James, "Look at this. Now we know what he did."

_**Special Services Commemoration at Discretion**_

_The following award hereby presented to _**Aaron Quirinius Potter** _by hand of _**Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore **_shall be utilized for decorative purposes only to commemorate the following special service to the sole wizarding educational institution, Hogwarts, in all of the United Kingdom, but with sole discretion for the sake of the privacy of the awarder and the awardee: _

"What does that mean, the award was private?" James raised his head, his eyes questioning.

"Yeah, looks like it. Dumbledore probably gave the original certificate to your dad and then stashed the trophy in Filch's office before it was moved here--

A look of dawning comprehension appeared on James' face, "Sirius!" he crowed, "Sirius, Armando Dippet was Headmaster when my dad was at Hogwarts. He should've awarded this to my dad, but since it was Dumbledore who did and since it's private, maybe Dippet didn't _want _Dad to have it. So maybe Dippet put it in storage in Filch's office with the rest of the rejects from the trophy room, and since Dumbledore just became Headmaster a few years ago..." James trailed off.

"Maybe there was some kind of sticking charm?" Sirius offered, but his expression still was apprehensive.

"Yeah," James latched onto Sirius' suggestion, "Yeah, maybe there was a sticking charm or some really powerful magic, so Dumbledore only managed to move it here until two years after his succession."

"I don't know," Sirius mumbled, "It's pretty wild."

"Let's see what he did then," James announced confidently, returning his attention to the elaborate certificate, eyes straining to read the curlicue scripture.

_...for the sake of the privacy of the awarder and the awardee:_

_On the date of theeighteenth of June of the year after the death of the Great Wizard of Nazareth, nineteen hundred and forty-three, the subject..._**Aaron Quirinius Potter**_...did hereby carry out the action of an attempt to cease the wrongdoings, ramfications, and any succeeding consequences of fellow student and House mate of the greatly renowned and cunning Salazar Slytherin. For this astounding feat, a **Special Services Commemoration at Discretion** is awarded. _

Below that, there was a wax imprint of the same winking serpent and the Hogwarts Coat of Arms. Both James and Sirius were deeply impressed with James' father.

They had known a Special Services to the School award was a great achievement but the most prestigious was a Special Services to the School at Discretion award, simply because not only did the reciever perform a feat meriting a Special Services award, they had to keep it quiet--discrete.

"It doesn't tell us much though," Sirius noted, "I mean, your dad did something major when he was--how old was he in forty-three?"

"He was sixteen," James said quietly, "A fifth year."

"Oh." Sirius' respect for Aaron Potter increased a bit more. "Well it basically said that when he was a first year he took down another Slytherin, and not even Dippet felt that was good, so he had to get a private award from Dumbledore? But..." Sirius looked slyly at James, "That's to be expected. From a bunch of Slytherins and all."

James flew at Sirius.

"Hey--get--gerroff of me!" Sirius yelled, wrestling with James, "You know I didn't mean it like--YAH!"

James had thrown Sirius to the floor one last time and fell over backwards, panting.

"You great prat, James, I said I was sorry."

"No, you didn't."

"Yes I--anyways," Sirius not-so-subtly avoided the topic, "Your dad attacked another Slytherin, but Dumbledore thought it was in good sense, in fact he appreciated it so much that he gave your dad an award behind Dippet's back. I'm dying to find out what that other Slytherin did."

James was tracing his father's name that was engraved in the trophy over and over again, deep in thought. He furrowed his brows at the eighteen-year-old version of his father, who studied James curiously. The secretive but dangerous-looking figure was now tapping lightly on the photo, beckoning James' attention.

"Maybe he can tell us," James said abruptly.

"Who? Your dad? I thought you said he wouldn't tell you."

"Not my dad. _Him_," he pointed at the photo; the young man looked offended as if to say, "What? I'm not your father now?", but then the figure simply settled for slouching against the frame, arms folded and stared at James. Between two fingers, a slip of parchment casually unrolled, revealing spidery, harsh writing.

"What's that he's showing you?" Sirius asked curiously, adjusting the file so that both boys could clearly see the photo.

"It's some kind of--it's spare parchment!" James breathed eagerly, "There's writing on it too--look here Black, can you see what it says? My glasses are fogged up."

"Simple little fool. _Impervio_. How many times do I have to do that charm for you? Now let's look here..." Sirius and James, with his very clear glasses, both squinted at the parchment where the eighteen-year-old Aaron Potter was now discretely tilting at them, his eyes gazing at James intently.

"It looks--no, it can't be."

"_Riddle_," Sirius hissed, "I should've known."

"What do you mean? You couldn't have known that it could be the guy with the funny name."

"I don't know. Both trophies were in the reject display in Filch's office, and...I don't know, they were next to each other. There was just something funny about the both of them."

Now James' father was looking annoyed. He slammed the parchment against the photo, his eyes glaring at James, daring him to dig deeper, further, faster...until he solved this.

"This night won't end until we get to the bottom of this," James repeated, in a soft voice. He suddenly jerked forward, momentarily startling Sirius, and gathered his father's old file and crammed it back into the _P_ drawer.

"Sirius, where's the _R _cabinet?"

"Over there," Sirius gestured, "Careful mate, the drawer's about to close." As soon as the words slipped from Sirius' mouth, James jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding the powerful burst of magic that slammed the immense drawer shut.

"These things are dangerous," James complained bitterly, under his breath.

"Yeah, well, we're not exactly meant to rifle through these at our heart's content either. Think of it as another security measure."

"I see it," James announced, "It's in the corner on the other wall. Sirius, stop fooling around and come on." James strode purposefully towards the cabinet with a gleaming, curlicue _R_ on the middle drawer. Sirius followed him, muttering angrily.

"I'm getting cranky," Sirius announced, "It's too late for this kind of thing."

"We're almost there--I know if we just find out who this Riddle guy is, everything will be clear."

"Clear? Everything will be clear? Listen to yourself James, you sound like one of those ridiculous wizards that sell private investigation services in Knockturn Alley."

"Stand clear--" James paused, waiting for Sirius to stop yelping after the magically potent _R_ drawer nearly impaled him, "Now, his name was Riddle?" This was rhetoric of course, so Sirius didn't respond; instead he pulled a stark, brand-new folder from a spot in the last quarter of the drawer, glaring at James.

"Looking for this?"

"All right mate, let's see it," James grinned, but his eyes showed that whatever he felt about this, it was anything but cheerful and light-hearted.

"Fine," Sirius muttered warily, "Let's have a look--" James ducked under the drawer and pulled Sirius down to the floor where they could more comfortably examine the files.

"It's definitley a lot thicker than my dad's," James observed.

"We'll see," Sirius muttered darkly, and he flipped the folder open.

Immediately, they were met with an eight by twelve, black-and-white graduation photo identical to James' father's. Only, instead of revealing a more sinister, older-looking James, a charismatic, good-looking young man blinked up at them slowly, bored. The man had straight, black hair slicked backwards in what was a stylish cut in the forties and dark eyes, bridged with heavy brows. His face was carefully structured, cheekbones prominent, but, like James' father, he had skin that was unnaturally pale. The words TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE were printed underneath the photo in block letters.

Sirius swore and then in a quiet voice, he said into James' ear, "I can see why your father didn't like this guy."

However good-looking and charismatic this Tom Riddle was, there was an innate darkness, an underlying evil to the young man that would make saying James' father was sinister prudent. Sirius quickly turned the photo over:

"Let's see what he got a Special Services award for then," Sirius suggested, jabbing James in the ribs.

James blinked, "Oh. Oh, yeah, okay. Well, it says here that he graduated in nineteen forty-five--same year Dumbledore defeated Grindenwald--with high honors." James added despondently, "Other than that, there's not much but a bunch of achievement certificates, article clippings, essays--" James frowned over a particular thick essay labeled_ A Discourse on Immortal Possibilities_, "This guy was pretty serious, but I don't see anything that merits being hexed into oblivion by my dad."

"Wait," Sirius commanded, "I found something promising. It's an infirmary record from the time your dad got that Special Services award for Tom Riddle. Apparently he was recovering from some really nasty injuries that he got--that he sustained in the first week of June. It even says that he was assaulted--by another student. Three guesses who, James," Sirius looked up, smirking.

"Dad wouldn't have attacked him for no reason. Did it say how badly he was injured?"

Sirius glanced up at James warily, "It doesn't say in here...butwhen I wasin here a while back, I saw something on your dad's misconduct printout thatwouldprobably put away someone like Riddlefor at least a week."

"Yeah...?"

"Um, well, Jamie there's no easy way saying this, but your dad used a Sanguicurse."

James paled, but not considerably.

"Heuses--used...he used thatcurse a lot."

"No," Sirius mildly objected, "He only used it onceduring all of his Hogwartsyears, and it was when he was sixteen--about thesame time he attackedand hospitalized Riddle."

James didn't say anything. Sirius didn't bother toaskeven more questions...for example, "_Did he use it _after_ Hogwarts often?_

"You know what mate?" Sirius finally broke in gently,"I think we need to look in the Hogwarts Significant Dates in its Illustrious History archive."

"Where's that?" James asked, glad to be relieved of the thoughts that were furiously running through his head.

"It's the blank filing cabinet next to the _A _cabinet. I'm thinking we should look up June of nineteen forty-three."

They left the Riddle file on the floor for the being; they didn't notice that compared to Aaron Quirinius Potter's already yellowing folder, it was suspiciously new-looking. Too clean, too white, too much of a coincidence.

By this time, they were becoming practiced at opening the potentially lethal, projectile-like cabinets. Sirius sorted through the files, muttering dates under his breath until he arrived at 'nineteen forty-three', and he pulled out a respectably yellow folder. They set it on top of the other files and opened it--

**STUDENT DIES:**

**Is the Fabled Hogwarts to Close?**

"Ah!" James jumped backwards.

Below the glaring headlines--from the Daily Prophet--there was a gruesome picture of a teenage girl's corpse lying on a stretcher, her eyes wide open, but unseeing, her limp arm hanging over the side. Her glasses were skewered, hanging off her ears, but otherwise she looked unharmed--it was as if she died by being Petrified or completely freeze-dried.

"James," Sirius hissed, "James, look. It's--who does that girl remind you of? James!" Sirius repeated, his eyes widening as he read the article, "Her body was found in that broken girl's bathroom. You know who this is? _This is_ _Moaning Myrtle_!"

"No way," James breathed, "So she died in the first week of June, at the same time Tom got his injuries...from being attacked by another student? This is too convenient."

"Don't forget," Sirius pointed out, "Your dad attacked Riddle in defense of somebody...probably another student. Remember? 'a_n attempt to cease the wrongdoings, ramfications, and any succeeding consequences of fellow student..._'" Sirius quoted.

"So Dad was probably defending another student from Riddle in the same week of the death, but he can't tell anyone about it so Dumbledore gives him a private award as compensation? Look at that guy," James gestured towards the upside-down portrait where he knew the young man would be staring up at them, an evil lurking in his dark, long-lashed eyes, "He probably tried to kill this girl."

"Then why wouldn't Dippet expose him? We should checkout _his _Special Services award."

"All right, all right," James relented, returning the folder to its slot--the drawer slammed back shut--and they returned to Riddle's file:

_**Special Services Commemoration **_

_The following award hereby presented to _**Thomas Marvolo Riddle **_by hand of _**Armando Vincentio Taddeo Dippet **_shall be utilized for decorative purposes only to commemorate the following special service to the sole wizarding educational institution, Hogwarts, in all of the United Kingdom:_

_On the date of the twenty-ninth of June of the year after the death of the Great Wizard of Nazareth, nineteen hundred and forty-three, the subject_**...Thomas Marvolo Riddle **_did hereby carry out the action of an attempt to cease the wrongdoings, ramfications, and any succeeding consequences of fellow studentof the House of theoutstandingly courageous Godric Gryffindor. Special detail will be drawn to this Commemoration, the commemorative deed in name worthy of further extrapolation: that _**Thomas Marvolo Riddle **_did hereby **capture and detain the offending heir of the Chamber of Secrets**; as consequence, serving justice for the murders of **Myrtle Joan Jenneson** of the House of the endearing, loyal Helga Hufflepuff. __For this astounding feat, a** Special Services Commemoration** is awarded. _

"It says he saved Myrtle!"

"No," James said darkly, "It says he caught the person who did it, but I'm not so sure it's not a set-up. Let's look at the rest of the stuff."

Only moments later they found the piece that they felt incriminated Tom Riddle:

**HOGWARTS BOY WONDER ON TRIAL**

**Isthe Esteemed Tom Riddle in fact the Slytherin Murderer?**

Dumbledore had recommended Thomas Marvolo Riddle to be put on trial for the murder of Myrtle Jenneson. The prosecutor was an attorney famous at the time, but now dead, Abigail Kensington. Her client was asixteen year-old boy...Aaron Quirinius Potter.

Tom Riddle was acquitted.

But the true horror came at the very end of the folder, which contained a transcript from the courtly proceedings.

_**P.A.** You have not any aspirations in the extreme for glory, power? To enforce said qualities?_

_**Witn. T.R.** No._

_**P.A.** Avery testified; he himself confessed that you force the peers close to you to address you in a rather pedestaling manner. Did you feel exaltation, any kind of 'lording over' so to speak when your peers, supposedly equal to you, addressed you as their...lord? _

_**Witn. T.R**. No._

_**P.A. (frustrated)** Tom Riddle, did you or did you not have your friends address you as--as... **(momentary pause--tension relieving exercises)** _

..._Tom Riddle, are you Lord Voldemort? _

_**(silence)**_

_**P.A. **Are you Lord Voldemort!_

**_(silence)_**

_**Witn. T.R.** Yes._


	4. That Treacherous Night

**August 1st, 1974**

**Snape, James, Sirius, and Lupin are fourteen**

It was Remus Lupin's fourteenth birthday; today it would be eight years since he had been changed. Normally, Remus was as well-adjusted as you could get for a werewolf, but his birthdays were always depressing. This one in particular, because every eight years Greyback--the wolf who had bitten him when he was six--checked in on his victims to make sure they were flourishing and developing a healthy hatred for non-beasts, or humans. Wizards and witches included.

Remus suspected Greyback had long given up on him; the werewolf surely would have realized by now where Remus' loyalties lay. He was soon to be a fourth year at a wizarding educational institution, he still lived with a family who loved him, and he had three good friends who constantly dropped by during the summer although not during full moon. They had yet to master the delicate art of becoming Animagi.

At the moment, it was a bright, sunny day, a very good day for sitting in a tree, reading books. Occasionally, Remus took a bite of an apple, but he snuck a few pieces of raw meat from the deer carcass that he strung up in the tree so when he transformed he wouldn't; it was full moon tonight. When it was a full moon day, Remus became uncontrollably wolf-ish even in daylight; something he was sure would please Greyback if he did come.

Remus had taken great and painstaking care to distance himself from his family and friends on this day, and he was happy to see that he had succeeded. Surely the Pyrenees mountains would be far enough so that his friends wouldn't be able to reach him.

Maybe Greyback wouldn't even come. Greyback came sometime in the eighth year, but not necessarily on the very day the bite was recieved, eight years later. Maybe when Greyback chose to check in on Remus, he would be at Hogwarts, protected by Headmaster Dumbledore. Remus was content with this thought, but then it struck him: if he didn't come today, he would spend the rest of August frantic with worry for his family, not knowing if Greyback would come that day or not...he would have to stay in the mountains even longer.

Ah well, he was far away now--on the likeliest day Greyback would visit. Everybody was protected from him, and comforted by this thought, Remus stripped away some more meat, swatting the insistently buzzing flies away from the carcass, and chewed on it, flipping a page in his book. Every one was safe.

Or so he thought.

* * *

"I don't know Jamie," Sirius shook his head, "Tonight is full moon, and we don't know how long it's going to take to get there." 

"Shh," James hissed, peering around the door where their friend, Peter Pettigrew, was struggling with a theoretical Charms essay, "I don't want Peter to get wind of this."

"Why not? He was always Remus' favorite; he should be there for his birthday."

"We shouldn't even be there," James admitted, "But we can hold our own. Peter can't. We'd have to look after him, and if we need to haul arse, we can't haul his and ours too."

"Poetic," Sirius saluted, "But this is shit James. Peter invited us over to his parents' resort for the summer, and this is how we repay him?"

James groaned, and pulled back the curtain in the shared bedroom they were now standing in. "Don't remind me," he muttered, admiring the beautiful South of France coastline, "but this is for his own good. I can honestly say I can't look after him. I can't even look after you--

"I don't need looking after, but I can take care of you Jamie, don't worry...ickle little Jamie..." Sirius teased.

"Shut up," James muttered, "So you ready?"

"It's already noon. We better be quick about this."

"Yeah, yeah, just grab your broom and we'll go."

"How are we going to find him in the middle of the Pyrenees? We can't use magic..."

"I've been working on a bit of cartography; I'll show it to you, it holds a lot of potential for a fourth year project, but for now, I've made one for the Pyrenees region. Besides, we're already in France, and they're just a few miles from here."

"More like twenty."

"Brooms, Sirius, brooms."

"And Floo powder."

"Right you are," James nodded. "Peter? Oi! Peter!"

"Uh, what?" Peter looked up from his papers, his forehead still screwed up from the intense concentration he had for his third year level homework.

"We're going to that broom-racing competition now--

Peter's face lit up; he always loved to see James race and being his friend...especially when he won and was all famous-like.

"But you have to finish that. Remember, Flitwick won't let you in his fourth year class until you do that and we'd hate to have to leave you behind with the younger kids while we ham it up in our fourth year classes."

"You're horrible, James," Sirius whispered, so that Peter couldn't hear.

"Eh, Dad would be proud," James muttered.

Honestly, the boys both respected and highly esteemed James' father ever since the middle of their third year when they found out that Aaron Quirinius Potter had tried to take down a sixteen year-old Lord Voldemort, when they had been contemporaries at Hogwarts.

Peter's face fell with disappointment.

"You're right. I better finish this so I can be with you guys."

"Always man," James nodded, "See you tonight. We'll hang tomorrow, promise."

Peter nodded eagerly and then returned to his work.

"Okay, get the floo man," Sirius pushed James back into the bedroom.

"Patience, Black, patience."

"Brooms, Sirius, brooms, patience, Black, patience, what are you? Merlin?"

"Shut up."

"No. Oh good, they have Spiffy's Floo; I've always found that brand to have a higher quality of consistency. Doesn't scratch your throat as much." Sirius ran his fingers through the green powder. "Ready when you are."

"I'm ready. Let's go."

They both stepped in the fireplace, and Sirius dispersed the Floo powder.

"Network outlet two-sixty, Pyrenees."

They spun slowly at first, and then faster and faster until the whole fireplace was a blur--they could barely catch glimpses of other fireplaces hooked up to the Floo network until they were finally disposed in a grimy, old-fashioned fireplace. Coughing and stumbling, they smacked their robes until all traces of dust disappeared and took in their surroundings.

"Not too bad."

"Yeah, it's sweet."

They were standing in a dilapidated but clean shack. The paint was peeling, the floorboards were loose, the windows were missing, allowing a nice breeze to float in, and it smelled musty with a mild hint of skunk. But having grown up in pureblood society, they were quite accustomed to less-than-adequate wizarding establishment conditions, ancient buildings, and worn finery, which almost always was accompanied by an odd smell.

"So where's this cartography thing you have?" Sirius peered down James' robes.

"Hey back off, man. They're in here." James rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a slightly torn and ratty scroll with vague scribblings on it, resembling a map a ten year-old would probably come up with.

"That's the genius you're willing to base our fourth year project off of? Besides, we already have us becoming Animagi to work on. I figure we need one more year and we'll be set."

"Sirius, never judge an artifact by its artwork."

"You got the phrasing all messed up; it's never judge a book by its--

"I altered it okay! One freaking year of Muggle Studies and you're an expert. Now listen up; the drawing's pretty shoddy, but you're a good artist so you can take care of that next time, but the Transfiguration and Charm combo is excellent. It tells you where everyone you need to know is, where you are, and...and well it'sbasically infallible. Very useful for spying and marauding."

"Spying? I don't know where you get these ideas, but I agree, it has potential usefullness. Now can we please find Remus and wish him a happy birthday before he gets all psycho-monster?"

"Yeah, just hold on. Let me check where he is..." James shook the rumpled parchment open. Sirius watched James as he scanned the map, his eyes widening.

"Oh..." James then cursed so loudly, Sirius jumped maybe two inches.

"What? Did it just occur to you that your scribblings resembled a dragon or something?"

"Sirius, look at this," James thrust the map in Sirius' hands, his expression grave.

Frowning, Sirius shook the map and studied it carefully. "Oh there's Remus--and...an...oh...fuck."

Around Remus Lupin, there seemed to be a swarm of heavy, crudely drawn black dots. They were buzzing angrily among themselves, but worst of all, they completely surrounded Remus and they were all labeled with the names of people they recognized.

People like Lucius Malfoy.

"Lily," James gasped, his eyes growing wide with horror, "She's there."

"What? _Evans_? No...no way. What would they want with her?"

"Moony has a bit of a crush on her."

"Huh? But he knows that _you're_ into her."

"He does, but that doesn't stop him from liking her in the privacy of his own mind. And minds can be easily broken into."

"This is bad," Sirius shook his head, "Good thing we anticipated some rule-breaking and brought our wands with us."

"You're right. Let's go; we don't have much time."

"Wha--what? James, I wasn't being serious--

But it was too late. James was out the door and was already kicking up his broomstick, rising quickly into the air. Sirius had no choice but to get into the air immediately or his friend, who was a supremely talented Quidditch player would fast lose him.

_Twenty Years Later_

**February 9th, 1994**

**Harry is thirteen**

**Lupin is thirty-three**

**Snape and Sirius are thirty-four**

"Your mother was there for me at a time when no one else was, Harry," Remus Lupin sighed, leaning against the railing of the Hogwarts bridge. "She was so generous; she had a kind and giving spirit...you have her eyes you know. And as for your father...well," Remus chuckled, "He had a penchant for, shall we say, rule-breaking..."

**August 1st, 1974**

**Snape, James, Sirius, and Lupin are fourteen**

"James, you can't treat this like one of your stupid adventures!" Sirius yelled, trying to make himself heard, but it was to of no avail with the wind whipping in their face and carrying all sound behind them.

"Almost there!" James called from his shoulder. Sirius could hear him only too well.

"Death Eaters. We are meeting fucking Death Eaters. Lily Evans, Moony, Merlin how do we get ourselves in this situation?" Sirius muttered to himself.

"Sirius, set down your broom! We're going down, behind the weakest point in the circle."

Sirius obliged, vowing to be more direct with James once they were on the ground and not with their heads literally up in the air. Once they landed, Sirius, being taller and broader than James, grabbed James by the shoulders and shook him

"_Snap out of it_, we can't do anything about this. There are what?" Sirius grabbed the map from James' pocket and shook it free, "There are about thirteen Death Eaters not to mention some...some guy named--oh _Christ_, Greyback's here too. You know what he does, James--

"Of course I know what he does," James snapped, "You're forgetting who my father is--

He broke off instantly, but Sirius latched onto it, having found James' vulnerability.

"No, no I don't know who your father is. You've never told me James, and if you can't trust me, why should I trust you with this...this stupid idea. The truth is, we're just two fourteen year-old wizards; we can't take on thirteen Death Eaters, a vicious werewolf, two if we're here past evening, anda possible cameo by Lord Voldemort. It's insane, and the bottom line is we'll get killed if we try doing this and it won't help our friends. The best thing to do is to get Dumbledore."

"No," James said simply. And he walked away.

Sirius watched his friend's retreating back with unabashed horror. James was his best friend and he would follow him to the ends of the earth, which was what James was now walking into. Resigned to what he believed would be his last moments on earth, Sirius glanced down at the map. **James Potter** was in bold and was now stalking its way towards two black dots labeled **Rodolphous Lestrange** and **Antonin Dolohov**. Then, stunned, Sirius observed another dot slowly moving around in what appeared to be above the two Death Eaters--a tree perhaps?

It was labeled, **Severus Snape**.

"That filthy little piece of shit," Sirius growled, "Fourteen and already licking Voldemort's feet."

But then the dot labeled **Severus Snape **moved away from **James Potter** and it seemed to be flying...flying...right--over--Sirius.

Sirius swore and pressed himself against a conifer, trying to become invisbile. Why hadn't they brought the Invisibility Cloak? And summer was no time to be performing a powerful Disillusionment Charm unless Sirius wanted to be expelled--he'd already had one too many notifications from the Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Luckily, **James Potter** seemed to be waiting for Sirius before doing anything stupid like confronting the Death Eaters and trying to save Lily Evans and Remus. Sirius watched in amazement as **Severus Snape **shakily landed about half a mile from where Sirius was hiding. He was right in front of a new dot...only it was unlike any other dot Sirius had seen on the map. It was a light grey, and the name was a jumbled mass that occasionally blinked in and out of existence so that Sirius could barely make it out. Finally, it wavered a bit and the name **Arthur John Torrence **appeared briefly before shakily disappearing into a jumble--it was as if two names were trying to mesh together.

The **Severus Snape **dot seemed to shake a bit; he was performing magic. The new, grey and shaky dot instantaneously flew off the map into non-existence. For one horrifying moment, Sirius thought he had just witnessed a murder, but then the dot appeared behind **Severus Snape **before disappearing again to who knew where.

**Severus Snape** paced for a bit before finally attempting to fly--badly--towards the Floo network outlet two-sixty they had came from. Sirius sincerely hoped he got a notification of underage magic from that annoying Miranda person at the Ministry.

Once he was in the clear, Sirius sprinted towards James' dot, and he met up with the real James Potter in a matter of a few minutes.

"Where were you mate?" James demanded, looking annoyed, "I thought you had..."

"No, Jamie, no I wouldn't do that. I got held up by a good friend of ours...Snape."

"Snape! No way. I knew that slimeball was a Death--

"He wouldn't take a fourteen year-old. No, Snape had his own vendettas to deal with; apparently he was after this Torrence guy, but the guy got away and Snape was stuck flying back to the Floo network. Serves him right anyway; I don't care what that guy did."

"Torrence," James frowned, "I think I know that name from somewhere--_Sirius_!" James pulled Sirius' arm down and they both ducked. A split second later, an unattractive-looking man with sandy brown hair staggered into the bush James and Sirius were hiding behind.

"_Jugson, don't hide from me_."

James froze. Sirius peered at the map lying on the ground--a bold, black dot labeled **Fenrir Greyback** was hovering over another dot labeled **Andrew Jugson**, which was now quivering in front of their own two dots.

"Greyback--" the young man gasped, "Please--please don't. The Dark Lord doesn't want anymore werewolves in his private circle of Death Eaters...it would be too much of a hindrance, don't you see?"

"Hindrance!" Greyback's raspy voice chortled, "Hindrance, he says. You will be a great hindrance to the Dark Lord won't you, when he finds you let the Evans girl escape..._with the boy wolf_?"

James' jaw tightened. Sirius knew that James was now aching to go back and find Lily and Remus before the Death Eaters tracked them. And their brooms; they had left their brooms near the grove of conifers that they had landed by. What if the Death Eaters found the brooms? Even worse, what if Lily and Remus found them and flew away...abandoning them?

"You didn't _see it_, Greyback! You were too busy terrorizing that nearby town, but the girl--the little bitch--she cast the disarming spell when the Dark Lord was about to kill..."

"When he was about to kill you Jugson? For your incompetence? 'That little bitch' saved your life, and you are indebted to her. The Dark Lord does not like servants who are indebted to his enemies."

Shocked would have been too puny of a word to describe James and Sirius' reactions. They were bursting with confusion, wonderment, smugness, triumph, fear, and worry all at the same. Lily attacking Voldemort when his back was turned and then escaping with Remus? She had defeated the Dark Lord once, and she was only fourteen.

Greyback hissed and he pulled Jugson up roughly by the arm, his yellowed claws digging deep into Jugson's arm. Jugson howled with pain.

"Nothing compared to the punishment the Dark Lord has in store for you Jugson...you shall be lucky to survive."

_Twenty-two Years Later_

**June 31st, 1996**

**Harry is fifteen**

**Lupin is thirty-five**

**Snape and Sirius are thirty-six**

Indeed, Jugson did survive. He survived to make the mistake of casting the Killing Curse on Harry Potter; the boy had ducked and rolled under a table, the curse rebounding off the wall and intoa shelf of prophecies. Jugson hoped it wasn't the shelf with the prophecy his Dark Lord was looking for.

No longer the young Death Eater in-training, Jugson was now twenty-two years older than he had been when he first joined the ranks at age twenty-one. Those years did not do him good.

A stunning spell shot at his chest and he lost consciousness.

Eight hours later, he awoke to a high cold voice, the angriest he had ever heard it.

_"Good__, another one awake."_

And he screamed and screamed until he went insane--_like the Longbottoms_--he briefly thought, images of a much younger and sexier Bellatrix Lestrange, then Bellatrix Black, casting the Cruciatus Curse over and over again on the Longbottoms.

And he saw a green light coming towards him, hurtling. Then he died.

**August 1st, 1974**

**Snape, James, Sirius, and Lupin are fourteen**

When Greyback had left with the defeated-looking Death Eater, Jugson, Sirius and James scrambled out of the bushes hastily. Unfortunately, they ran right into a young man who they instantly recognized as--

"Malfoy!" Sirius spat.

"Nice to see you again Potter, Black..." Malfoy's wand tip was now extended, pushing into James Potter's neck, "I hope you'll come with me quietly...or I may be forced to kill Potter here...and I know his father won't be too happy about that." Lucius Malfoy grinned broadly, revealing two rows of small, pointed white teeth.

"Right you are," James growled, "He'll send all of his best men after your family."

Sirius could've sworn he saw a brief flicker of fear cross Malfoy' face. Again, he wondered just what it was that James' father did for a living.

"You'd make a good death eater Potter. You're not even a blood traitor, but your family still refuses to ally with us. Why?" Lucius added this last part as a rhetorical musing, his voice laced with wonderment, "Very strange indeed. You even have a long history of Slytherin patriarchs and Ravenclaw matriarchs--

"My mother was Hufflepuff," James sneered, eager to dispute anything Malfoy said.

"Shut up, Potter, you're coming with me. Black?" To Sirius' horror, Lucius seemed to be acting friendly towards him. Then it slowly dawned on him...he knew how to get out of this.

"Yeah," Sirius smirked at James, "Let's go see the Dark Lord."

It pained Sirius to the heart to see the look of horror and disbelief on James' face. He thought he had betrayed him! Sirius couldn't believe how idiotic James could be sometimes; but they had only been friends for three years...well surely, they had a closer bond than that? From the look on James' face, Sirius realized he would have to work harder at this friendship--and so would James if they ever got out of this.

"How's that cousin of yours, Narcissa?" Lucius grinned lewdly at Sirius. Sirius didn't feel protective of his cousin whom he felt to be an evil bitch.

"She's really hot--but she's all for you Lucius. All I hear is Lucius this, Lucius that...we're going to get married, blah, blah," Sirius feigned disinterest. "Are we almost there? C'mon hurry up, Jamie," he lightly shoved James forward.

"_Get--your--filthy--hands--off--of--me--you--TRAITOR_!" James roared.

Lucius' fist came down on top of James' head, hard.

_Seven Years Later_

**October 31st, 1981**

**Harry is one**

**Snape and Lupin are twenty-one**

**James and Sirius are twenty-two**

Sirius Black dismounted his motorcycle and immediately fell to his knees, a wracking sob shaking him to his very core. He was twenty-two, and he was already doomed, he knew. Everyone thought he was the Potters' secret-keeper. No...only Dumbledore thought that, and Dumbledore's word was law.

He would have no trial. Not with that bastard, Bartemius Crouch as Head of Law Enforcement...he would put away his own son if he had the opportunity, Sirius thought bitterly.

In front of him, the Potters' house lay, in smoking ruins. How? How could this have happened...?

A baby's cry pierced the air, and Sirius froze. No...no it couldn't be. How could the baby, Harry, survive when both his parents were dead? Lily had defeated Voldemort when she wasn't even a fourth year, and her son survived while she lay dead? James, who had duped Voldemort twice during his years with the Order of the Phoenix and once when he was seventeen with a Fizzing Whizbee...Lily again and again when she was fifteen and then finally, sixteen...dead?

He picked up his godson, the baby had already taken after his parents, Sirius thought grimly as the baby's cries quieted. A black, lightning-bolt shaped scar now adorned his forehead. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, trying to blink back the tears. He was remembering...James had doubted their friendship only once...just once when they were both fourteen. He still remembered:

"_Get--your--filthy--hands--off--of--me--you--TRAITOR_!"

...the words echoed from the distances of time. James had not doubted their friendship this time; instead they had transferred the Secret Keeper responsibility to Peter Pettigrew, a stroke of brilliance James no doubt had felt that he had had. But it wasn't Sirius who was the traitor.

It was Peter Pettigrew. The very man Remus Lupin had the foresight to warn them about when they were all just boys, the gawky, chubby adolescent that Remus had encouraged them to be kind to, the colorless man their distinguished friend had finally severed all ties with. Remus had been too repelled by Peter's growing scent of the future treason he would committ to remain friends with him. As a result, James and Sirius thought it was _Remus_ who was the traitor because he had been detaching himself from their Marauder group...how stupid they all had been...except for, as always, Remus.

"Sirius?"

"Hagrid..."

**August 1st, 1974**

**Snape, James, Sirius, and Lupin are fourteen**

James Potter saw nothing but a haze at first, coupled with a pounding head ache as he slowly came to.

"James, we have to go."

Sirius. Sirius, thank Merlin.

_But wait_, a warning voice echoed in his head, _he betrayed you. He brought you to Voldemort...Lucius' friend. _

James punched Sirius in the face, but to Sirius' credit, he didn't cry out loud, which would have alerted the Death Eaters. Instead he stumbled backwards, gasping softly.

"James, you great prat," Sirius shook, his voice breaking, "I was assigned to guard duty with Rookwood, because I pretended to be on their side. Look at this--" he kicked an unmoving body. James, shamefacedly, recognized it as Rookwood.

"We have to go and find Lily; it's been full moon for six minutes," Sirius gestured to the sky, still cradling his bleeding nose with his right hand, "They might not have found a broom for Lily."

"Let's...let's go, mate." James, too, was close to tears. "I'm so sorry, Sirius...how can I ever tell you--what I thought, what I did...oh God, Sirius, I'm so sorry."

"Save it," Sirius said shortly, "Lily is in danger, and so is Remus...and so are we," he added as an afterthought, "Now let's _go_."

That night they ran the hardest, the fastest they ever would run.

When James would flee the scene of the famous Fizzing Whizbee/Voldemort incident at age seventeen, he only managed to get just below the speed they have achieved that night.

When Sirius would hunt down Peter Pettigrewseven years later, he came close to breaking the speed at which they ran that night, but still fell short.

When Harry fled from the scene of Voldemort's rebirth at age fourteen, thirteen years after his parents' death...even then he did not quite break the speed at which James and Sirius ran then, in a desperate effort to save their friend and a girl, who James believed was destined to be his soulmate.

A werewolf's howl echoed throughout the night, and Sirius squeezed James' shoulder, panting.

"James you have to take your broom. Here..._dammit James, take the broom_!" He thrust the broom into James' chest. The night was black now--no one could see anything...no one's face was discernable by this light. Not even Sirius recognized James anymore; for all he knew, he could have been handing a broom to Rookwood even.

He was reassured when James' took the broom and flew in the moonlight. It was definitely James' silhouette he was seeing.

"I see her!" he yelled, "You take her, and I'll fly tonight until Remus changes back."

"You're a dolt James, this is your opportunity to--

"_You think I care about playing the hero to the damsel in distress now?"_

Sirius knew better than to argue. He spotted Lily where James was pointing; she was safely perched in the top ofa very high, very thick tree, but Remus the wolf was clawing at the trunk below her, howling. Sirius had a feeling that Remus had helped Lily get that high up into the tree earlier that evening before he had transformed; there was no way Lily could have climbed that fast and proficiently when there was a teenage werewolf chasing her from behind.

"Lily!" he yelled, "I'm going to bring you back to Hogwarts, so get on the broom when I swing by, all right?"

Obviously 'Hogwarts' was the magic word because as soon as Lily heard that, she stopped hiding from Sirius and started waving her arms frantically. Sirius edged the broom closer and paused it.

"Get on," he ordered, "It won't stay still for long."

Lily climbed onto the broom and wrapped her arms around Sirius' back without question...but she did protest:

"What about him? He's just a kid when he transforms back, and he's one of my best friends," Lily shouted into Sirius' ear, "You can't just leave him; there are Death Eaters swarming all over the place--what--what are you doing? You go back right this instant--

"There's somebody waiting so he can bring him back," Sirius assured her, shifting the broom towards the Floo network outlet.

"How do I know you're not just saying that. You're probably one of those stupid wizards from the Ministry who lie to you about everything just so you do what they say. Dammit, bring me back to Remus, I have to be there for him..."

* * *

Lily never saw the face of the man who had rescued her. He had simply told her, 'Go to Hogwarts and tell Dumbledore' and then he flew back, presumably to watch over the wolf. But as she looked out the window-less windows, she knew she saw two figures silhouetted against the moonlight, not one. She was beginning to think that perhaps it wasn't a Ministry wizard who had rescued her after all...poor Remus, she had held him while he made the transformation, but he screamed at her, screamed at her to get away, that he would kill her if she didn't get up in the tree. 

When he finally became strong enough to overpower her he had thrown her to the nearest branch. Out of pure instinct, she grabbed on, and heaved herself upwards.

"_Get--up!"_ Remus shouted, his voice coming out guttural, as it made the transition from human to wolf chords.

Now that she knew he was a werewolf...she would always be there for him.

* * *

As a result of the Great Rescue, as James liked to call it, his head became even more inflated for the next few years. He actively pursued Lily instead of admiring her from afar, and not knowing that he was responsible for her rescue, Lily grew to dislike him. He bullied others she cared about...which was pretty much every one...he showed off too much, and he made her feel like nothing more but an object. 

Sirius saw the whole thing but shrugged it off. He was too busy solidifying his friendship with James even further.

Peter was excluded even more as a result.


	5. Sincerely, Black

**October 21st, 1975**

**Snape and Lupin are fifteen**

**James and Sirius are sixteen**

"James, it was a noble concept, and the very fact that you wasted...ah...er, ahem--spent three good years endeavoring to--

"Moony," James growled, "If you don't shut up, I may have to stuff you in a boot."

Sirius yawned and stretched leisurely, "A boot, Jamie?" Rather than waiting for a response, he snuggled deeper into a beanbag covered in swirly paisley patterns and psychadelic daisies.

Meanwhile, James was utterly dismayed at the lack of progress they had been making in terms of becoming illegal, unregisterd Animagi.

"Isn't that what you _Muggles_ call a trunk anyway," James threw out offhandedly, not really thinking, "A boot?"

"I'm not even going to respond to that," Remus Lupin retorted coldly, before retreating to his own beanbag, "I take pride in my magical heritage just as much as you or Sirius or Peter would--

"It's too early for lecturing us on the pathetic lack of moral fiber we have, Moony," Sirius commented, his voice oddly muffled.

The three boys stared at one another, a heavy silence crackling in the air--they were not accustomed to failure; everything had always come so easy to them, except for Remus of course. It was interrupted only by a loud screaming noise...a screaming noise that was growing squeakier by the very second...

_Five Months Later_

**March 14th, 1976**

**Lupin is fifteen**

**Snape, James, and Sirius are sixteen**

_"...Just shove a bezoar down their throats," _Snape inscribed into his old, battered copy of _Advanced Potions_, and then, under that: "_in circumstances, most likely dangerous or time-pressed, when 'simple but efficient' suffices, it is for the sake of conservation (ingredients, time, effort, etc.) that we avoid complicated antidotes; however glorifying it is to have brewed...and administer...such.Under leisurely conditions, it should be noted that the antidotes are more potent and overall, have better results...but such conditions are rare, especially when serving a Dark Mast--"_

Severus Snape paused. He considered what he had just wrote, and then furiously crossed out _Dark Mast_. Too incriminating...and if a future student or person happened to stumble upon this text...

Lily Evans studied Severus Snape from out of the corner of her eye. She knew she should be concentrating, but potion-making was almost a second nature to her and--her eyes discreetly slid over to Horace Slughorn--that excuse of a Potions Professor they had was much too enamored with her to chide or scold whatever ineptness she displayed in the classroom.

For the past few years she had been obsessed with Severus Snape. In terms of physical appearance the sallow boy was revolting, not her type at all, but he was such a powerful mystery, an enigma, that Lily Evans had no choice but be consumed of wanting to understand him. He gave off the air of being pure-blooded, but she knew that he was a half-blood, he was up to his nose in the Dark Arts--or so that dunderhead, James Potter, liked to loudly declare to half the student body--but there was a hidden quality to him, something much more complex than plain good and evil that Lily detected.

It was these fuzzy distinctions that intrigued her...mostly because after her confrontation with Voldemort just a few months previously, Lily had been shaken to her very core. It was then when she made it her life mission to differentiate and separate her enemies from friends...and people like Snape wholly deserved their very own group. Thus, the basis of which Lily made her continuous obvservations.

Snape was looking as snarky as ever, though. When Lily was a first, or even a third year, this would have been a cause for concern. It would ordinarily have been a plead for further investigation from her fourth year on, but now that she was nearly a sixth year, she knew better.

He was writing in his textbook again, and it no doubt was a scathing condemnation of the antidotes they were learning to brew. Privately, Lily thought that the whole situation would be much easily remedied if a simple (if costly) bezoar was administered, but the heightened standards of Hogwarts required fifth years to start Advanced Potions until 1980 or when the roster increased by ten percent, whichever came first; with Advanced Potions came advanced antidotes, but apparently, not advanced common sense. Something, Lily casually observed, that Black and Potter seemed to be seriously lacking even more so today.

Those two! They had obviously accomplished something very great, and Lily wouldn't be surprised if it was illegal too, the way they were going on about it, showing off more than usual, performing ridiculous but intentionally light-hearted pranks...one would think they had hoodwinked Dumbledore, became illegal Animagi, and pranced around with werewolves by the moonlight, or something.

Ah, she had finished. Lily quietly poured a sample and cleaned up her station, slipping out of the room before Slughorn could stop her with another invitation to one of those hideous Slug meetings...

* * *

It was obvious that Black and Potter--and possibly the sniveling toerag that, for some unfathomable reason, followed those two around--had become Animagi, Snape thought. He couldn't believe they were being so blatant about it, but perhaps they thought that the students would just dismiss it as one more boastful statement that had, unfortunately, come to pass from their lips. 

Evans was staring at him again too. Good Lord.

Malfoy was becoming more and more persistent with him, and Snape was fast approaching the point of no return. He would have to make his life decision soon--and fast. His final years at Hogwarts were looming near and the protection it offered, an excuse for postponing the dangerous, unpaced life as a Death Eater, would soon come to an end.

Snape had a sudden thought. If he managed to achieve his vindinctive revenge and destroy Arthur John Torrence--would it really be necessary for him to join the Dark Lord? He immediately waved away the notion. He had information, he knew, and it was inevitable that the Dark Lord was growing more and more powerful and influential, exponentially, and for him to survive and actually enjoy surviving, it was mandatory that he infiltrate their group and rise in the ranks so he would enjoy power and independence.

And fools like Dumbledore would no longer manipulate him, or cast him aside for those that Dumbledore favored. Like Potter and Black, he snarled.

It was growing dark. Snape was mildly anxious but not overly so. He had managed to take down Torrence almost once before; the man had attempted a pitiful escape before finally deciding to take a cowardly flight rather than face Snape, but Torrence was growing older and older.

_And so am I_, Snape realized.

Tonight he would get the answers he needed. If Snape's controlling nature had not restricted him from any emotional display, he would have been leaping for joy.

Night had fallen. Snape had chosen to remain behind, in the common room so when he left the castle, he would not have the added danger of awakening his roomates. It was difficult enough what he was already attempting to do. Taking a steady breath, Snape grasped his wand tightly and silently pushed his way out of the luxurious common room...the chill from the dungeons struck him, but did not deter him.

How used to the cold, to dampness he was...flashes of the hiding space under the kitchen sink, the cold feel of the stone under his bed pressed against his cheek as he hid from his father, and finally, when he had gotten too big, the lofty and chilly attic that was constantly assaulted by the rainy English weather...they all rose to surface, but he quickly pushed them away.

Good. Good, he was slowly, but steadily improving his Occlumency. He detected that even the Headmaster was growing disturbed by the total blankness he detected in Snape's head; if the Headmaster had not already had known Snape's shrewdness so well, the Headmaster would have taken him for a dunderhead.

He had reached three-quarters of the way up the flight of steps that led to the exit corridor. That was what the Slytherins called the hall that students used every day to get their sorry little arses in the Potions classroom they were undeserving of...except for maybe, the Mudblood Evans.

Although Snape heartily wanted to deny that Muggleborns were as capable, if not more so, than purebloods, he had to admit that whatever magic that managed to emerge from a union of two Muggles was hardy and powerful magic indeed. Her expertise was not as nearly remarkable as Snape's but it was just one of the many talents and charms Evans possessed. He failed to understand why she was not in Slytherin..._because she's a Mudblood_, he instantly corrected himself.

Snape drew his wand up and tapped a particular stone; he was still three-quarters of the way to the exit corridor, but this was where it was. Where he needed to be.

The stone sunk into the wall, and soon enough, a small arrangement of stones were quickly rearranging themselves magically, to create a medium-sized hole...one big enough for Snape to fit through. The sixteen year-old streched his pale, fine-boned hand to touch the dark, murky space beyond the hole. It was wavering slightly, not at all what he expected empty space to look like; this, after all, was supposed to be a passage out of the school and onto the grounds.

When his fingers made contact, Snape jerked his arm backwards. Water. That was what it was; Merlin forbid, it was water, not empty space. He should've known, he should've been expecting it--he lived in the dungeons after all, and it was rumored that Hogwarts had a massive underground lake, which surely would collide with the dungeons. It explained the perpetual dampness and the chilly air, at least.

_"Hydbuefee,"_ he murmured.

It was a French incantation he picked up in his _Ambiguously Shaded Charms _book. Ambiguous Charms were a source of a raging debate in mid-seventies Britain. They could be considered Dark Magic since they drew their energy from both Light and Dark sources, but they were usually used for practical and helpful purposes, such as the Buffer model. If you wanted to create a buffer protecting you from an outside element, all one had to do was say _buefee_ and then insert the proper magic prefix for the element that protection was needed from.

In this case it was water, or _hyd. _Thus, _hydbuefee_.

A cooling sensation wrapped around Snape, enveloping his senses, his mouth, his eyes, his ears...anything that might be used for sensory and internal functional purposes. A new confidence quietly announced its presence, and Snape plunged his head into the hole.

He'd been preparing himself for the shock of cold water, but he had foolishly forgotten one thing: the darkness.

A surge of panic welled up, and Snape attempted to retract his head from the abyss; this only made the invisible force that was keeping him in the horrible, horrible darkness suck him even further inside. He felt his feet lifting up from the cobbled steps...

_The more you resist, the more alluring and caustic it is. _

Lucius' words drifted in and out of his head, the words that he had spoken to Severus Snape when Snape was a first year and Lucius a seventh. Snape remembered himself, a stringy, pale little kid with great black hair swinging around in his face, his nose a bit proportionally large for his age, and Lucius already a grown and imposing figure in his head. Someone he looked up to, for Lucius was shrewd and he was magically pure...unlike Snape, although he had struggled to keep this from most of the Slytherins by flaunting his Prince heritage more than the foul Muggle name, Snape.

With these words silkily writhing their way through the cords of that gray mass, his brain, Snape used his hands to push himself further and completely into the watery void. Darkness. There was no way to describe it, the horror of being pressed and feeling the weight of water, the buffer straining from the immense pressure, while seeing, feeling, and hearing nothing.

He tried to use touch to find his way, but he couldn't even feel the water. What a stupid idea the buffer had been. Eventually he felt the pressure of the unmoving stone wall where the portal was located, but there was no hope of opening it. Snape knew he couldn't stay near the wall anymore, but it offered him supreme comfort, knowing that just a few feet away were the dungeons--and blessed air. Total darkness enveloped him. A sudden thought occurred:

_What if I am stuck here forever?_

Not forever...at least until he died of thirst, surrounded by water just a milimeter from his lips. How dreadfully ironic and appropriate for him. He couldn't stand the thought of staying there for another ten minutes let alone three or four days--no one would ever find him, and he would become a Hogwarts ghost...well if he became a ghost he could probably alert the appropriate people to recover his body and then he would perhaps be able to move on. No! He would not just float about and contemplate his future as a ghost...

His feet found the unmoving pressure that signaled the wall's presence, and with a great burst of energy, they pushed Snape away, propelling him even further into the darkness. He swam and swam, as fast as he could, but it seemed like minutes passed, eternity passed, and all he could see was the darkness...the horrid, wretched darkness that refused to give him even a sliver of hope, like a ray of moonlight, a star's modest reflection on the surface.

Time passed. Eons welled and rolled their way over Snape, and with his heightened perception of Time, he sensed a great disturbance. A name unwillingly popped into his head--a source of the disturbance: Arthur John Torrence. Kill him, destroy him, he was endangering Snape's life by his very presence, the botched murder Torrence had attempted. Darkness. There was no hope--Snape let out a long, painful cry and clung to himself, the only solidity and warmth in this void.

_Twenty-one Years Later_

**July 17th, 1997**

**Harry is sixteen**

**Lupin is thirty-six **

**Snape is thirty-seven**

So it was finally done. His position with the Light wizards had been eternally compromised, he had killed Dumbledore, and he certainly had inflicted the mild displeasure of the Dark Lord since he had denied him the pleasure of killing of his two greatest foes. Snape couldn't even begin to think, the boy he was dragging along with him was struggling to keep up with Snape's frenzied pace--it was finally done.

He felt hatred for the stupid boy, getting mixed up with the Dark Lord, although a tiny voice whispered to Snape, _the fault lay with Lucius_, he hated Dumbledore for putting him in this position again and again, a tightrope that was constantly wavering since the tender age of twenty-one, and now it had finally swung over, sending Snape hurtling into an abyss of betrayal, screaming dead, their hands outstretched, wavering, and grasping at his robes, threatening to drag him down with them.

"_What are we going to do?"_ the boy's voice was tense, laced with desperation and anger. "We're fugitives, Professor, what are we going to do? Go to the Dark Lord and serve him? I don't know...I don't--if I can...it wasn't a good idea, the vile little snake cares for NOTHING, except perhaps for himself!" He swung a foot and kicked a tree in a dark rage, trembling.

Stupid boy. Still, those words echoed a sense of deja vu, and Snape was violently recalled to all those years ago, when that very realization hit him at barely twenty-one. He suffered with it, his conscience growing more and more doubtful (hidden by the thresholds of Occlumency of course) as tortured screams and the stench of illegal potions affected him with each passing day, week, month...until the perfect opportunity presented itself: a vacant position for a Professor of Potions at Hogwarts.

He was a Potions Master, a Hogwarts alumni, and hardly suspected of Dark Activity--surely Dumbledore would accept him. His master was growing more frenzied and insane as time passed, the prophecy fatally alluring him to what would be his eventual half-demise at the hands of the Potter infant. Snape had realized that the life span of a Death Eater was too short for his liking...and the teeniest thought had wormed its way into Snape's head:

_What would it be like without the Dark Lord?_

Years of lusting after power, position, prestige, they had all came crashing down upon him, and his eyes were slowly opening to the world of death, prejudice, and torture he was taking part in. He was too endangered, and with his heightened awareness of Time--that awareness he had acquired at a young sixteen when trapped in darkness for seven hours--he suspected the return of the Dark Lord again and again, and he knew the protection of the Dark--or the Light--side alone wouldnot be sufficient.

He needed protection from both, and that was the only way he would survive to live a life without the Dark Lord...and without meddlesome, good-hearted fools who tried to govern his life. The pathway to Hell was paved with good intentions, he remembered, for this was something his Muggle father, Tobias Snape, liked to remind him from day to day.

"Draco," he said softly, his voice laced with malevolence, "you will come with me now. We must cleanse your mind of treason before the Dark Lord has any reason to cast his suspicion upon you."

Into the darkness they went, the Forbidden Forest looming its way into the fraigle psyche of Draco Malfoy, who had an unfortunate experience with the Forest in his first year with, unsurprisingly, Harry Potter. But what Draco did not know was that there was an emotionally "jellied" Severus quaking beneath that cold, hardened Professor. The darkness. Time. Snape wanted nothing more than to scream.

* * *

"...Severus, you must realize my understanding," Lupin hissed, "Rumors were rampant in the werewolf communities, the Order spies hinted at something larger at work, something more binding. I understand now...you were bound by an Unbreakable Vow were you not?" 

"Lupin," Severus growled dangerously, "I am warning you...our privacy, the boy and I are living quite precariously (and separately); for him to discover that the Pyrenees have been invaded by the likes of you--

"You have fled--even Voldemort is wondering where his trusted spy is, and the Malfoy boy is reduced to a quaking lump of jelly, hidden somewhere in the mountains--

Lupin cringed as the flinty point of Severus Snape's wand found its way to his neck.

"Nobody can know where he is."

"Yes, or you'll die won't you? You were never on any side, Snape, just your own."

"Perhaps I misjudged you..._Moony._"

"Come with me. I've convinced McGonagall to have a chat with you--we've information that Voldemort is up to something more dangerous than we could have possibly imagined."

The cold air of the Pyrenees struck the two men, enshrouded in black cloaks similar to those of the Death Eaters, whipping their faces into a red, chapped existence.

"You can sense Time, I know. At least, I suspect you do, Severus. Do you not realize how much danger we are _all_ in? As a whole? As a universe? Severus..." Lupin pleaded, sensing that Snape was withdrawing, "Severus...he has the Potters."

_He has the Potters_, Pettigrew's snarling voice rose, unbidding, from Snape's memory. He was twenty-one yet again, and all he could do was stare at Pettigrew in unabashed horror. Lily Evans dead? He couldn't imagine that girl, that girl whose presence was so _solid_ so charming...she was dead. Betrayed by her idiot husband's friend; he had no idea that Pettigrew was a Death Eater or else he would have hinted at it to Dumbledore long ago.

"Calm yourself Lupin, I'm coming."

**March 15th, 1976**

**Lupin is fifteen**

**Snape, James, and Sirius are sixteen**

He broke the surface, drawing in deep, gasping breaths, feeling exuberant as the Buffer charm dissolved. Finally, he could feel the cold water lapping at him, finally he could see the moonlight and the stars--blessed light, air, smell, all these sensory onslaughts that soothed him after...

Seven hours. His mind was fogged, hazy, the world seemed unreal to him, as if Time had been slowed for Snape and now it was whirling around him, spinning faster than he could have ever imagined. He sensed the years pressing down, replacing the water's pressure, he sensed the disturbance around Arthur John Torrence, and most of all, he sensed Albus Dumbledore uneasiness as he lay sleeping in the Tower--never knowing that the unease diverged from the fact that he sensed that a student had slipped by the wards surrounding Hogwarts. A student with his mind bent on murder, revenge, retaliation.

He had left the dorms early at night, about nine even though there were still some students up (though they were not in his year), because he knew the journey to Arthur's new hide-out would be long. It was now exactly four-seventeen in the morning, although Snape was not sure how he knew this piece of information.

It was the fifteenth now, not the fourteenth, a Saturday. Snape suddenly realized that he would be gone the whole day, and hopefully no one would be too disturbed, or take enough notice to sound the alert although this was wishful thinking. He swam towards shore, at the other end of the lake, away from the castle. He knew there were rowing boats in a small, on-the-water shack that Hagrid liked to visit occasionally for a peace of mind. He reached it in no time, and inside, there was a four-foot wide ledge that served as a floor, surrounding the left and topmost edges of the shack, and the rest of the floor was water. Two rowboats were floating, anchored onto a wooden pike that rose from the top-ledge sharply. An immense rocking chair creaked slightly in the corner.

The sky was turning gray, as Dawn was about to begin her stretching from the horizon, when the bow finally touched land. Snape took a deep breath, and recalled those stolen nights after Apparating lessons when he carefully studied the diagrams, practicing on his own.

He felt his body being sucked into an abyss, cold, crushing space--it was worse than the watery void, except he had to only endure this for a fraction of a second. Cold wind slapped him in the face; March in London might as well have been winter, minus the snow.

Muggle London that is. Snape tucked his head down, avoiding the curious gazes of the homeless of mid-seventies Britain as he trekked his way down the street and into an abandoned construction site where he knew Arthur John Torrence made his home.

_Three Months Later_

**June 28th, 1976**

**Lupin is fifteen**

**Snape, James, and Sirius are sixteen**

Sirius Black was greatly bored indeed. His robes were just a bit small, for he had also experienced quite a large growth spurt and was too embarrassed to ask his vile mother to buy him some new school robes; the woman would only scream and rage and berate him for becoming a man, and not a little boy for her to coddle and mold into her image, however hideous it was..._like Regulus_, he thought bitterly. His voice had grown deeper, his hair longer, and his body was almost fully-grown.Sirius rubbed his slight stubble appreciatively, and he heard a small sigh from beside him. He peered to his right and saw that a girl was gazing at him dreamily, chin rested in her hand. He snickered to himself and kicked James in the shin in front of him.

"Ow!" James bent down and rubbed his shin grumpily.

"Is there a problem Mr. Potter?" Professor Binns inquired sleepily.

"No problem, Professor," James said, while shooting Sirius a malevolent look. Sirius grinned cheekily at him.

"Well back to the goblin rebellions—oh, it seems we've run out of time."

Everybody was either asleep or incapacitated enough to respond.

"Er—class dismissed."

Within three seconds, the room was empty.

"Guess I'd better grade these essays...Zzzz..."

* * *

"Ha, I'm telling you mate, the girl was like, besotted with me." 

James sighed, but didn't say anything. He glanced behind his shoulder where Lily Evans was talking to her friends.

"Prongs," Sirius punched James's in the shoulder, but James didn't respond. "Hey, James!" Sirius tried again. When James turned his head to Sirius:

"What's wrong with you man? You're acting...well mature."

James laughed a short laugh, "Whatever. I'm just..." He trailed off.

Sirius scoffed impatiently, "Jesus. You're really in love with Evans aren't you? I mean not like a manly lusting situation, but...the real thing."

James just stared at Sirius.

"Guess so," Sirius shrugged. He was bored dammit, and his best friend's big head had deflated enough so that he wasn't as much fun anymore. James had certainly changed a lot, and Sirius suspected it had something to do with Lily Evans, the minx. Even Snivellus wasn't as much fun to torment anymore since whatever scuffles ensued now turned into full-blown, wizarding duels and weren't that much fun for James and Sirius anymore. One too many trips at the infirmary had thrown caution to the wind when approaching Severus Snape. The combination of these two unwittingly took James' mind off of childish things like bullying and showing off.

"Guess so, what?" Remus asked, joining the duet out of the blue with a copy of _A Revised History of Hogwarts_ tucked under his arm.

"James is in love," Sirius jerked his thumb over at James who had just walked in a suit of armor.

"What else is new?" Remus sighed.

"What? What? That's not new?"

"Er, no."

James sighed forlornly.

"Good grief," Sirius muttered.

"Did you just say 'good grief'?" Remus frowned.

"No," Sirius replied, "Now let's go to Potions before we get another detention. By the way, I'm bored."

"Again, what else is new...agh," Remus was pushed in front of the crowd by Sirius.

"Lead the way, matey," Sirius said in a pirate accent.

James just sighed heavily.

* * *

"Just step aside," Severus Snape snapped, "And I'll do the potion. You'll muck it up." 

Sirius grated his teeth, "Snivellus, we're both inAdvanced Potions if you hadn't noticed."

"Believe me, I've noticed," Snape hissed, "Why they put a bunch of douchebags like you in here, I don't know."

Sirius raised his wand, but then Remus kicked him from besides.

"Cool it, mate," Remus whispered.

Remus looked especially peaky; it was full moon tonight and James and Wormtail both had decided to not go running in the Forbidden Forest tonight in favor of studying for the Potions exam tomorrow. Sirius already took the exam since he wasn't going to be at Hogwarts tomorrow, and had been looking forward to getting the four Marauders together again tonight, but it obviously wasn't going to happen.

Snape's eyes slid over to Remus Lupin, but to Sirius' surprise, the greasy bat didn't say anything. Instead, he just bared his teeth (already, they were showing traces of yellowing) and then returned to the potion Sirius was currently mucking up. In reality, Sirius was an outstanding potion-brewer, it was just that Snivellus distracted him--at least that was Sirius' argument when Slughorn gave him poor marks for individual effort.

Sirius accidentally knocked over a vial of yellow pus and it seeped into the flames under the cauldron, and the entire thing exploded.

"NO!" Snape screamed, "YOU IMBECILE! YOU UTTERLY, INSIGNIFICANT, WORTHLESS _IDIOT!_"

Sirius had enough.

"_Impedimenta_!" he roared.

"_Protego_!" Snape yelled, and then: "_Boilus_!"

The jet of red light was, however, deterred by Professor Slughorn.

"I will not let my N.E.W.T. class be disturbed by adolescent temper tantrums," he said in an uncharacteristically cold voice, "Leave now, before I decide to expel the lot of you."

Sirius saw Lily Evans glance upwards, mildly disturbed and a bit annoyed. Most of all, Sirius could see she was worried; Slughorn was very genial if a bit cheesy and ambitious, so it was unusual for him to be so...detached. Cold. Snape-like.

Snape left in a stormy rage with Sirius following behind, avoiding his friends' eyes.

"Hey, Snivellus."

Snape muttered some profanities and then turned to face Sirius, wand quivering, face colored puce with rage.

"Hey, I just have something to tell you," Sirius surrendered, revealing his palms.

Something had defnitely happened to Snape...Sirius was guessing it was the two days Snape had disappeared--sure, it was the weekend, but Dumbledore had been disturbed enough to hand over a three-day, in-school suspension to Snivellus. Sirius had seen Lily Evans walk into the infirmary, where the pale, cold body of the unconscious Snape lay for the first day, and then later, Sirius caught Lily trying to talk to the greasy bastard while he hissed and snarled at Lily's well-intentioned come-ons.

"All the better for me to curse you," Snape's upper lip curled up into an evil sneer.

"No..." Sirius said slyly, "I think you want to hear this..."

"Believe me, I don't," the shorter teenager snapped, and before Sirius could respond, Snape had stormed away without even trying to hex him.

"Huh," Sirius shook his head, perplexed. He would have to be more subtle about it then...of course Remus couldn't know, and he had a feeling that James would probably put an end to it if he found out...

* * *

The sky was as black as black, and the branches of the still young Whomping Willow howled with shrieking fury as it swung around Severus Snape. He avoided the branches and tapped on the twisted knob Sirius had told him about. A passage opened and he ducked into it, avoiding the lethal, swinging branches. 

A piercing howl echoed throughout the air and Severus froze. There was a shadow at the end of the hall, a large, wolfish animal breathing heavily, foam at its long, dagger-like teeth. It kicked back its head and a long, raging howl exploded from its snout again.

Snape stood, immobilized. The wolf dropped to all fours and then snarled menacingly. It then broke into a loping charge straight for Severus—

Then he was falling, falling backwards, on a furry back, with antlers...a stag? They were running, running, the passage shrieked shut with a blast of cold air, the branches waved around the animal that was carrying Snape. He bounced wildly and was carried to the borders of the Forbidden Forest, then was tossed off the stag's back. It was a brilliant chestnut color with large, majestic antlers. Sprouts of gold hairs exploded from a ruff around its neck and it was melting...

"POTTER!" Snape's voice shrieked in anguish, traveling through the night, so that Albus Dumbledore awoke abruptly in his office...

_One Month Later_

**July 30th, 1976**

**Lupin is fifteen**

**Snape, James, and Sirius are sixteen**

"You can't go," Regulus Black whispered, pleading with his older brother.

"Shut up, Reggie," Sirius hissed, "What do you care anyway? You're up to your nose in the Dark Arts, you hate my friends just because they're half-blood, and you're a wannabe Death Eater."

"You're my brother. We have an obligation, bound by the shared blood that courses through our veins."

"You're not my brother," Sirius responded coldly.

* * *

A small, black figure darted about, illuminated by the silvery moonlight. It was riding a broomstick, a heavy trunk lagging not far behind, and it grew smaller and smaller with each passing moment. It was obviously in a hurry, anxious to arrive at its destination--anxious to get away from wherever it was departing from. 

With a sigh, he picked up a quill, his cheapest piece of parchment, and sated the nib with ink. The blood obligations called him to perform this one last act, and then he would have nothing more to do with his reckless, seemingly younger brother although he outstripped Regulus byawhole year.

**July 30, 1976**

_Enquiry to Messer Potter Sr. and Spouse;_

_The eldest Black son has renounced his blood name and family and has fled.  
He will be seeking sanctuary shortly afterwards, and it is my request, the last act  
of benevolence I will perform on his behalf (part of the blood-severing ritualism  
that must take place after renouncement), that you allow my brother to reside at  
your home for the remainder of the summer. _

_Your negilegence to do business with my father harbors no ill wills on my behalf.  
If you honor this last rite, then the debt that will then rest on my shoulders will  
follow you and your (and my) successful generations if it is not relinquished._

_My deepest wishes of thanks and luck go forward to you. _

_R.A.B._

_Regulus Aeneas Black _

**August 1, 1976**

_Mr. Regulus Black,_

_Your older brother has safely found his way to our home. Janet Potter,  
my "spouse", and I are enjoying his company very much, but we realize  
the importance of filial obligations especially when it concerns older  
wizarding circles. Sirius Black has brushed this off for now, and we have  
no wish to force his return, and as it is, he is enjoying his stay with  
my son, James. _

_I have no wish for the Black Household to be in debt to mine. Debts and  
any kind of magically bound obligations are a dangerous thing, and you  
will do well to remember that Mr. Black, when deciding upon your actions;  
they will certainly impact your future. Reconsider the path you are set on,  
for it only will lead to darkness. _

_Do not think this hypocritical of me. My "business" that you shadily allude  
to is not what you think it is. It has its mercenary purposes, even when dealing  
in the matters of human lives, but it is for the greater good; it is with this in  
mind that I select my clients. _

_Yours,  
A.Q.P.  
Aaron Quirinius Potter _

_Five Months Later_

**January 9th, 1977**

**Lupin is sixteen**

**Snape, James, and Sirius are seventeen**

He had waited for this day forweeks, months, years even. The anticipation had shreddedhis psyche into several fragments that were scattered across the considered wasteland that was his brain.

One screamed in horror and dread of the eternal service he would now have to pay to the Dark Lord. This part was small. Another chuckled mirthlessly and observed the day with a sense of detachment. Couldn't he just watch? This part was considerably larger.

The last, but certainly not the least, quietly spoke into Severus Snape's ears:

_You know they're coming today. You know Lucius will be expecting an answer. _

And it grew louder, echoing:

_You're a man, Severus. You're a man now, so start acting like one. _

It was his seventeenth birthday. No other student had this decision bearing down on him on this occasion. He hated to compare himself with the likes of the bedraggled Gryffindors, who were as just as every bit power-hungry as Slytherins...only they sought glory on top of it.

He hated it, but it was staring at him in the face, challenging:

When Sirius Black turned seventeen in the fall, hundreds of bouquets, boxes of chocolates, as well as several joke shop sets, explosive devices, and even a Nimbus broomstick from some anonymous (but surely deranged, pathetic, and mental) chap turned up, all of them piled outside the Gryffindor common room.

When Remus Lupin turned sixteen last summer, everybody was quite aware of it, for Remus' name was imprinted on the sky in explosive fireworks. The next day, newspapers and the French (as well as the Spaniards) had commented on it.

When _Potter_ turned seventeen, the school was nearly destroyed from an outbreak of magical havoc that came from the mosh pitthat had formed, taking up the space ofthe entire floor where the Gryffindor commons were. Albus Dumbledore himself had to break it up by midnight, although Snape was furious at the thought that the Headmaster had even let it go on that long when everybody else was due in their common rooms by nine-thirty.

And now Severus Snape was seventeen. Lily Evans had sent him a card; it was simple, clean, and was not sentimental at all. It had said, "Wishing you a happy birthday, Severus. Spend your first year as an adult wisely, but don't forget to have some fun.Yours, Lily Evans."

Other than that, the only thing he was now expecting was a visit from Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy would be looking for answers of course, but although Snape was all too painfully aware of his earliest memories of Malfoy--those filled with adoration and admiring--he had to admit that with each year, he progressively was disliking Lucius.

Malfoy had been intelligent and capable, but now he was reduced to nothing more but a servant, who was only granted the power he liked when his master was pleased. And in Snape's opinion, Lucius enjoyed the bloodshed far too much than necessary for putting up pretenses. Which meant it wasn't a pretense for Lucius after all.

He waited all day in anticipation. In the end only one thing foretold what Lucius' intentions were:

**January 9, 1977**

_Severus,_

_Well? I anxiously await your response, my friend. The Dark Lord does  
not want to take those inexperienced and young, but he admires thirst  
and willingness from such a tender age. I have been advised to contact  
you upon graduation to discuss matters further, but rest assured Severus,  
we will be in touch before long. _

_Lucius_

"Get out of here," Snape hissed, smacking Lucius' owl aside. The creature cawed violently, and flew away into the night, leaving Severus Snape in the cold air, clutching at his cloak and the now crumpled letter in his hand.

* * *

James Potter was exalted. Lily Evans had dropped her books, so he had picked them up for her despite knowing that she would probably lash out and call him some name or other before storming away to report his offensive behavior to her sympathetic friends. They'd chatter and clamor over the "stupid, egotistical James Potter" and then start engaging in some intellectual discussion or other that wasn't beyond James, but he liked to pretend it was--it fit his whole image better. Then he got to wondering...why did an image matter? When he graduated, would anyone really care? 

The answer he came up with was 'no'. Apparently this was something worthy of discussing with Moony. But anyways.

He was exalted. He was exalted because Lily did _precisely_ the opposite of what he thought she would have done. Instead, she had met his eyes slowly and calmly. Finally, her delectable lips curled up in a small smile, and...

"Thanks, Potter."

"Your welcome."

And then James had enough sense to leave it at that and walked away.


	6. Death of the Eighties

**August 12th, 1978**

**Lupin, James, Sirius, and Snape are eighteen**

Regulus Black cursed the Potters' ancestors for building their estate in northern England. The sun seemed to be non-existent, the clouds hung heavy and forbearing, and rain threatened to pummel Regulus into the nearest Muggle pub, which, unlike wizarding pubs, refused to service anyone under the age of eighteen.

How ridiculous.

Because it was summer, the sixteen year-old had left home, a pilgrimage being his excuse, and he had trekked on foot for almost two months from his parents' home in Middle England to James Potter's estate on the foggy coasts of northeastern England.

His elder brother had run away from home a year ago, like the coward he was, leaving Dad to fend for Mum and her wasting illness.

Contrary to his parents' beliefs, saintly Regulus Black, the "good son", white sheep to the black sheep Sirius was, was not coming to the hated Gryffindor's sanctuary to claim his brother.

Rather, he was going to claim career advancement.

Regulus had no taste for the Slytherins' finicky politics, and this Death Eater branch he heard of was so unappealing in its blind obedience and indignity…he had no wish to join them. So what was he to do for his future?

Regulus was first jolted by this thought when Professor Slughorn, the head of his House, pulled him aside for career advice. The O.W.L.s had been upon them then, and such conferences were mandatory for each fifth year student.

Regulus had walked away from the meeting with the realization that he had no clear direction in life and why he had been excluded from the infamous Slug Club for so long.

After arduous research, it had pointed Regulus in one direction: clandestine operations. Really, it required of him all the traits that made him stand out—or rather, concealed him.

He was thrifty, a polyglot, sly, and he had friends in low places as well as high. The problem was finding a recruiter.

Apparently, the books had explained, the clandestine employers considered a possible recruit viable if the recruit had been talented enough to find the secret operation, seeking employment, in the first place.

It was common knowledge in the elite ranks of the pureblooded world that Aaron Quirinius Potter was the Grey Voldemort of the time.

He had seemingly unlimited power and resources, but he was neither explicitly good nor evil. His operations simply fell into a grey area, but always ultimately proved to be the best for the wizard and Muggle worlds alike in the long run.

Regulus wanted that job.

There! A great, black, iron fence had risen sharply from the ground; it was an advanced disillusion charm that had concealed the fence from Regulus until he was almost upon it.

Beyond the thick bars, a modest, stone castle jutted from a pebbly meadow elevated from a beach that was just below; the waves crashing loudly against the shore.

A large, fairly modern _P_ was melded with the thick bars, just above a nasty-looking padlock with chains. Potter Estate.

Quickly, so he could be out of the almost-rainy weather, Regulus cast a specific charm his books had told him to once he thought he had reached a clandestine director's home.

_Puruniondence sanctorium, I am Yours. _

He let out a sudden gasp and jerked backwards. A thin, but impressive cloaked figure was standing in the shadow of a stone pillar the fence was running from.

His skin was pale, suggesting much time spent indoors and reflected the perpetually cloudy climate in northeast England. Quick as a blink, he moved fluidly, so that he was facing Regulus, his black hood casting a shadow on his face so that Regulus could not recognize him.

"Mr. Black," a cold voice sounded from within the shadow, "I am sorry to inform you that your journey has been in vain. Your brother is not here."

"I know he's not here. He has come into an…inheritance. However undeserving his character may be."

The cloaked figure, who Regulus now knew to be Aaron Potter, was silent for a moment.

"Then what ever are you doing here? I assure you that there is nothing for you here."

"I am seeking employment after Hogwarts. I came here to recommend myself to your clandestine firm in the year nineteen-eighty."

Immediately, Aaron Potter let a short exhale of laughter.

"You are sadly mistaken. Hiring you would bring strife to the firm: your family's political alliance being just one of them. Even if young Sirius Black came to me, I would refuse him however commendable he is. Mr. Black, it is admirable you have found me, but I refuse your recommendation."

Before Regulus could respond with anger, the cloaked figure shimmered and suddenly vanished into thin air. All that remained was the crisp summer air and the gloomy trails left from the overcast sky.

And a young man trembling with indignation and a righteous desire to prove Aaron Quirinus Potter wrong one day. One day, he would be martyred, and Potter would have no choice but to acknowledge him. Then he would slight the damned fool.

The young man turned on his heel and stalked away, his dark figure rapidly becoming nothing more but a blur on the horizon, reflected in the glasses of a concerned, newly-graduated James Potter and his fiancée, Lily Evans.

_Twenty days later _

**September 29th, 1978 **

**Lupin, James, Sirius, and Snape are eighteen **

A sallow, dark-haired young man carefully observed the woman at apothecary counter. The establishment was rather dank and gloomy with a vile stench of decaying ingredients taken from animals, just barely masked by the infinitely more appealing aroma of plants.

The woman was an atypical pureblooded witch, for she lacked the haughtiness and arrogance that usually accompanied those of such lineage.

Her hair was most appealingly long and wavy, if a bit on the bushy side. Her complexion was fair, setting off her brown coloring nicely, and the young man could detect a trim figure beneath her plain but expensive robes.

She wrinkled her nose slightly, but in a most attractive manner.

"Bohr, I said I wanted the essence of a newt bladder, and I realize essences are rather expensive since one has to sufficiently capture a certain quantity of the _aroma_ in a small jar, but if you think you can cheat me with this—_worthless_—(Here, she defiantly slapped a glass vial into the greasy palm of the apothecary, Messer Bohr.) ingredient, you are a greater fool than I thought."

"Ma'am," Bohr wheezed, "My apologies. I have a vial in storage which may be of some…interest to you."

"I will be waiting here, most anxiously." Her expression was now taking on a disdainful countenance familiar to the young man.

He smiled, and before he silently whipped out of the apothecary, he caught her name scrawled in pretty, if a bit untidy, calligraphy:

_M.o.P Jane Davenport _

The young man reflected on the woman's capability. She was a Potions Mistress after all, and those were rare compared to _Masters_ of Potions. He hoped that one day he would be able to encounter the woman professionally and perhaps even apprentice so that he could fulfill the requirements for the honorific, Master of Potions.

But he was here on business and business alone. Specifically, for the Dark Lord. His eyes involuntarily slid to his left forearm, concealed by his robe sleeve, where he knew the newly emblazoned Dark Mark was.

With a grimacing smirk of satisfaction, he entertained fanciful notions of being the Dark Lord's right hand, a powerful wizard, well-married and his confounded Muggle blood forgotten. He pushed away memories of his unwillingness to bend to Lucius' coercion just a year previously.

"Snape?" a young man's voice echoed.

"Ah, Black. Good to see you again."

A sixteen year-old boy stepped from one of Knockturn Alley's many shaded alleyways. It was, indeed, Regulus Black, younger brother of the reviled Sirius Black.

"Are they ready for me?"

"That is precisely what I was sent here for. _Mufflatio_." Snape flicked his hand, and instantaneously, everything they said was to sound muffled and distorted to potential eavesdroppers.

"The Dark Lord wishes to inform you that while he is very pleased with your interest, he wishes you to remain at Hogwarts until graduation. Upon which, you will receive the mark, granted, that you are on good behavior until then."

Regulus's dark brown eyes hardened.

"Two years? But my mother already suspects me as a Death Eater. I can not let her down."

"I wonder what you have done to plant that ungrounded assumption into her head," retorted Snape, sneeringly.

The eighteen year-old tugged his cloak's hood further, and stalked past Regulus Black, who was looking all the more stormy and baleful. He had been rejected by _both_Dark and Light forces,although he was infinitely capable.

That would not do.

_One year and two months later _

**November 20th, 1978 **

**Lupin and Snape are eighteen **

**James and Sirius are nineteen **

Although James Potter had sunk to the lowest of the low in the pureblood high society, it would be folly to completely ignore his importance by affiliation (for his father was a most industrious man and was not one to get on the bad side of).

It was this reason that Lucius Malfoy and his young bride, the seventeen year-old Narcissa Black, extended an invitation to the Potters to their wedding reception, however unwillingly.

Lucius had to admit, he was quite eager to see the young Potter and his upstart, little Mudblood wife that Narcissa had spoken so vehemently of.

His bride had conceded that the "Evans girl" was very pretty, but it was overshadowed by her abhorrent, outgoing persona, and any self-respecting gentleman would find her very gross indeed.

Lucius, on the other hand, was eager to evaluate the young Potter since the last time Lucius had seen him; they were seventeen and eleven, six years apart at Hogwarts.

Also attending was Regulus Black, who, at seventeen, was worrying Lucius with his conduct. At the moment the hosts and the attendees were all gathered in a large, luxurious ballroom.

People were swirling about the dance floor most appealingly, while the more undesirable set were confined to their outlying tables, intimidated by the high-class wizards and witches who sneered at them if they attempted to join into the entertainment.

The previous weekend, Regulus had been caught sneaking into a Death Eater revel by the Dark Lord. He was most gravely punished for it, and Lucius was quite surprised to see that the boy was even well enough to attend the reception.

Although having grown much in the past year or two, the boy was still thinner than his elder brother, but decidedly of a more reserved character.

He was Lucius' favorite, out of most of the Death Eaters to say the very least, even more than Snape, while intelligent, talented, and completely loyal to the cause, was thoroughly tainted by Muggle blood.

At the moment, the youngest Black was pursuing the hand of the Mudblood wife of the young Potter. She was refusing him, Lucius could see, and he flushed with indignation and confusion on the young man's behalf.

Why was he pursuing a trashy Mudblood? For a brief moment, he wondered about Black's true loyalties, but his apparent eagerness (so eager that he would deign to sneak into a revel!) quickly overshadowed any doubts.

"Mr. Black," the Mudblood's voice echoed across the room to Lucius' sensitive ears, "I am quite happy with my husband, but thank you very much."

"Fine," Regulus said shortly. He stalked back, striding past Lucius, but then Lucius grabbed his arm tightly.

"What are you _doing_?" he hissed. Narcissa looked on the two young men with concern; she had no wish for _her_ party to be ruined, and she was already anxious enough with the impending rituals of the wedding night.

"I had hoped to trample over the Mudblood a bit, but Potter was too quick. He signaled Evans and she declined _me_." This was all said with an air of self-importance and disgusted incredulity. Most befitting.

Reassured, Lucius released Regulus' arm. The boy visibly relaxed.

"Go dance with Narcissa, will you," Lucius commanded, "She's becoming restless."

Regulus had become transfixed once again with the Mudblood.

"Regulus," Lucius repeated insistently, gesturing towards Narcissa.

Startled out of his reverie, Regulus Black returned his attention to Lucius.

"Yes," he began hesitatingly, "Of course. That is, if you really wish it."

"I know what I wish, and you would do well to obey unhesitatingly. That is a skill crucial to being subservient to the Dark Lord."

"I understand," the younger man immediately said, hoping to defer Lucius from further admonishing. He quickly set off in pursuance of Narcissa.

A glint of metal caught Lucius' eye, and blinking, he slightly turned his head, his hands clasped behind his back in an aristocratic fashion.

The metal glinted again and he found the source to be in the crevice of Lily Evan's neck, where a golden, extremely old-looking locket was suspended from her neck.

James Potter was whispering affectionately in her ear, and she had her hand against his chest in a loving manner, but her eyes were watching Lucius, calculating and hardened.

Disturbed, he swung his head the other way and put some more distance between the unnerving couple and him. That locket was unnervingly familiar.

It clicked with something that had been stored in the deep recesses of his mind, something the Dark Lord had mentioned about preserving his immortality….

He also briefly wondered why Regulus Black had been so fascinated with the Mudblood Lily Evan's antique necklace and her startlingly green eyes.

_Fourteen years later _

**August 19th, 1992 **

**Harry is twelve **

**Black, Lupin, and Snape are thirty-two **

Lucius Malfoy stared intently at the old, croqueted lace peeking from the edges of his fine, traveling frock coat, fingering it gingerly with his pale, aristocratic fingers.

The shirt had been his grandfather's, which explained the fading finery, but he wondered if he could simply burn every old garment and buy the latest styles. It was an idea worth considering, he conceded, and Narcissa would no doubt be very pleased with the idea.

His other fingers closed around the semi-precious book in his back pocket: the old diary from the fallen Dark Lord's school days. It would teach the Weasleys a lesson or two about blood treason.

There was a terribly unsightly crowd, and he was glad he refused to have Narcissa come with him to see the pathetic Gilderoy Lockhart make a spectacle out of himself.

Lucius knew for a fact that the so-called wizard was just every bit as incompetent as the Longbottom boy Draco so often cut apart during holidays at the Manor.

Lockhart had even been a few years ahead of Lucius at school, and from the little he remembered of Lockhart, he was horribly deficient at Quidditch and seemed to have a knack for memory charms.

He caught a glimpse of the tell-tale red hair and shabby clothes that clearly indicated the Weasley's presence. Lucius Malfoy smoothly started his approach only to pause.

A dark-haired, small, considerably skinny boy was lurking about the Weasleys, engaging the youngest boy in conversation.

An overwhelming sense of déjà vu struck Lucius, as the untidy back of the dark-haired boy's hair and his countenance forcibly reminded him of the Potter family. He was steeped in their blood, even the way he carried himself…Merlin forbid.

He wondered when Aaron Potter had the time to have another child before dying a most…untimely death…in nineteen-eighty. The child would be the right age.

Again, Lucius began his approach, and as the insufficient crowd turned to recognize him, the Potter boy's face locked onto Lucius. Scar, glasses, and—

Brilliant green eyes.

Harry Potter. Well, he never. He should have guessed immediately, what with Draco vehemently accusing Potter of all sorts of flagrancies and his friendship with the blood traitor and Mudblood. Another sense of déjà vu settled upon him.

He could've sworn that he was twenty-five years old again on the silent eve of his wedding reception.

He was powerfully reminded of a certain pair of green eyes that had gazed at him so condescendingly, seeing right through his inner self, one hand on James Potter and the other stroking an old, golden locket that struck his eyes painfully.

The book fell into Ginny Weasley's sack, and he instantly doubted himself. Lily Evans had suddenly spoken to him through Potter's inherited green eyes, and he knew that he had just done a favor for Lily Evan's heir.

_Thirteen years earlier _

**September 19th, 1979**

**Lupin, Snape, and James are nineteen**

**Sirius is twenty**

His nimble fingers flicked the glass vial delicately, his cold, black eyes examining the stopper intently. It was, most untastefully, a pewter skull with two garish rubies glued--_glued_ for Merlin's sake--into the eye sockets.

It contained a powerful truth serum, his specialty as it were. Although the Dark Lord was an accomplished Legilimens and had no particular need for truth serums, he enjoyed delegating the task of creating painful concoctions of truth serum and poisons to Severus Snape. It made the interrogation process even more painful, before actually commencing with the mind-rape.

One year. It had been exactly one year since he had been recruited as a Death Eater. He still remembered the summer of 1978, how horrible and crushing it had been. Still uncertain about his future as a Death Eater, the eighteen year-old had spent nearly three nerve-wracking months working as an apprentice under the Hogsmeade's own little, run-down apothecary. Students rarely ventured there, and if they did, it was almost always to obtain illegal Potions ingredients or to replenish their stock with whatever they had forgotten to purchase at Diagon Alley.

The storekeeper was no exemplary Master, but the title stood, and Severus Snape required three years of apprenticeship under a Master before becoming one himself. Besides his talent and his dedication to research and learning made up for any teaching deficiencies the storekeeper had.

One useful thing, Snape conceded, was that the storekeeper exhibited no unwillingess to impart very _useful_ tidbits and such about practical properties of Potions in storage...and opening Severus Snape's eyes to the utmost importance of Herbology.

He showed rare and exotic plants that could be manipulated to transfer the most excruciating pain--mental, physical, or emotional--into what appeared to be a perfectly innocent, household potion. Dreamless sleep, for example, or even a wizarding version of dishwashing detergent.

He was eager, his passion and intensive study blinding him and closing his mind to think further than pleasing the Dark Lord.

He rarely skirted the edges of questions such as, Why did he have to continuously brew more of the concoctions? Surely the Dark Lord was not merely displaying or examining them out of curiosity? They were disposed of, weren't they, on unfortunate victims of the Dark Lord?

Instead he returned to his work with a new passion and fervor, never willing to dwell on the truth although a guilty twinge racked him.

He squeezed the glass vial tightly and thrust it into a crate. The light flickered in the completely stone storeroom, as Snape's robes provoked the candle flames to flare and then recede.

As if on cue, his Dark Marned started twinging. For one wild moment, Snape fantasized that the Dark Lord had caught the traces of his doubt and betrayal in the wind, from the outpouring recesses of his mind.

He quickly swept away the notion, placating himself with Enlightened reason: the Dark Lord had mentioned targeting a pureblood on this very day. Surely he would want his Death Eaters present, to make an example out of blood traitos, however pureblooded they might be.

Snape levitated the crate into his private storage and locked it so that the storekeeper wouldn't poke around, something he was notorious for once discovering Snape's aptitude at Potions. With another slicing motion of his wand, the storeroom-cellar went dark and a soft _crack! _was heard.

* * *

Moments later, he appeared between two Death Eaters, both just shorter than him. He felt singled out, even under his white mask and his preposterously terrifying hood. The Dark Lord was notorious for making all of his Death Eaters as uncomfortable as he could. 

The Dark Lord in question was standing in the middle the circle of Death Eaters, unusually silent and unmoving. Snape had been the last Death Eater to arrive, but not by a large fraction of time. Still, it was best to be one of the first to arrive.

The air crackled with electricity as the Dark Lord's figure pounded through the air, his powerful body coursing as he seemed to surreptitiously glide to the radius' midpoint.

Snape heard a gentle knocking sound in his head. It grew louder, more insistent, until it had morphed into a throbbing, rapping sound that threatened to implode Snape's head with its sheer volume. His mind tore apart and memories, images of the last revel forced their way to the surface of consciousness.

They were corrupted by the underlying quintessential rage and disgust of the Dark Lord. Blood traitors deserved to bleed dry. And the perfect candidate had been brought here...to avert any sympathy his Death Eaters may have for mudbloods and Muggles.

Although Snape struggled with the invasion of his mind, his exterior remained calm, albeit rigid. To his growing horror, he realized that he was the only one experiencing the brunt of the Dark Lord's Legilimens.

This revel had been called for him. The sole purpose was to teach Severus Snape, half-blood and aspiring Potions Master only halfway loyal to the "cause", a lesson.

"This is the price of power," the Dark Lord hissed.

To any of the other Death Eaters' ears it was cryptic and didn't make sense. Snape understood perfectly.

When the Dark Lord had paced away from the center of the circle, the heaving, convulsing body of a pregnant woman lay.

Her screams were inaudible, silenced with a simple _Silencio_. Her legs were spread widely apart, her white nightshirt stained with blood, sweat, and broken water. Her long, brown curls lay in rags, plastered to her face, her white arms clawing at the grass at her sides. Her head lashed from side to side, her forehead drawn tightly with agony.

For the first time, Snape felt nauseous. He had seen fellow Death Eaters Crucioed senseless, he had seen puppets slashed with the Dark Lord's powerful dark magic, and in the recesses of the Hogsmeade apothecary, he, on a rare occasion, visualized how his strange, new concoctions would be utilized by the Dark Lord.

He had never seen brutal destruction and torture of a woman and her unborn baby. A pureblooded woman no less, being persecuted for sympathy and fierce independence.

Images of Lily Evans rose to his mind, unbidding. An icy coldness swept over him, a premonition surfacing. The woman's brown hair was replaced with the streaming, lovely red of Lily Evan's hair, andthe woman's soft brown eyes transformed into an emerald green.

"She is," the Dark Lord hissed softly, his red eyes boring into Snape's mask, "a Potions Mistress."

His stomach clenched, thinking to all the times he had taken detours to Knockturn Alley's apothecary, hoping for a glimpse of _M.o.P. Jane Davenport_.

When he had realized she was pregnant, an unbidding jealousy and rage had surfaced, her wholesomeness tainted by another man, claimed and ultimately forbidden to Snape.

After a mere week, it had subsided, and Snape's fascination with the pert, lovely woman and her sharp mind had reinforced itself with a vengeance.

Even if the Dark Lord had not realized who she really was, he was driving the dagger deeper home at Snape's heart, brutally murdering someone akin to him.

Intelligent, decisively cutting, talented in Potions, her blood worthier than his, and out of his league. He was being downplayed, his importance reduced in the eyes of the Dark Lord and Snape's peers.

"Jane Davenport, look at her." The Dark Lord's voice held a trace of wonder, of sick curiosity as he crooned. "This is as my mother looked. Poor Merope Gaunt, abandoned, tortured...her child left to die."

"I survived, and the child will not. It is weak...weak as I am strong. It does not deserve to live."

"BEGONE!"

The Death Eaters stumbled backwards, rapidly Disapparating. Snape remained; he could not help himself. The woman called to him, and luckily, so did the Dark Lord. He had not meant for Snape to Disapparate away like his other fellow Death Eaters.

"Severusss..."

"My--my lord." His voice was shaky, and immediately he hated himself for his weakness. He hated himself for daring to care--

No.

His mind went blank, and he completely shut down. He couldn't risk exposing himself any further. His face slackened, and his shoulders straightened. His chest was drawn tight, and it was more difficult to breathe now that his posture had stiffened and formalized.

He tried to relax, but the continuous pressure wouldn't allow him. Time, that tiny voice that shared his mind since his disastrous incident in the dark water of hisfifth year, told him that this moment was a turning point.

At this moment, Severus Snape became the man he would be. The sloppy movements and uncontrollable emotions of his youth were gone, replaced by indiffident coldness and severity.

His eyes closed. Where he continuously felt his heart pounding, there was nothing. He could never bring himself to care again, everything would be ripped from him.

"My lord," he repeated, his voice stronger. "Allow me to kill her."

If the Dark Lord was surprised, hedidn't show it.

"Very good, Severusss...You are learning."

The Dark Lord swept away, his pale, bony arm extended in welcome.

Without hesitation, Snape drew his wand back and he threw himself forward with all his might, his wand slicing through the heavy air. Neither his lips nor his mind spoke the word for the Curse. His mere want of the Curse radiated from his body and a brilliant green light, even more brilliant than the Dark Lord's, burst from the wand tip. It poured from the tip, the world shaking from the sheer, tremendous force, the dark night lit by the green light as if it werean emerald sun...like Lily's eyes.

The light enveloped the woman, and she stopped moving instantly, her eyes cold and glassy. Her body slumped and lay, unmoving.

Both the Dark Lord and Severus Snape were silent.

"Dispose of it," the Dark Lord sneered. "You have done well this night."

The Dark Lord Diapparated, leaving Snape alone with the lifeless body of the woman. It had been quick and painless, but the Curse Severus Snape had used was not the Avada Kedavra.

No, it was something of his own little invention.

Years later, he would scrawl it in the margins of his old, battered copy of _Advanced Potions_ before throwing it into storage with all the other decaying textbooks in his new home, the Hogwarts dungeons. No one would think to look there for Severus Snape's last testament to his genius.

Repulsed, he checked the woman's birth canal. He had known that once she died, he would have to deliver the still-living baby that his Curse had protected while simultaneously killing the carrier. And he would have to do it quickly before the baby, too,died.

"_Scourgify._"

His hands were rubbed raw and red. Disinfected, he slashed the canal carefully with a well-muttered _Sectumsempra_, silently asking Jane Davenport for her forgiveness. Closing his eyes with revulsion, he used his hand to spread the slit canal apart further and carefully pulled the infant from its lodged position in the canal.

Thankfully, it had enough sense to start pushing head first, so the difficulty was greatly reduced to quickly guiding the infant from the canal. The baby's shrill, screaming cry cut through the air, but Severus Snape, while normally sneering at uncontrollable babies and inadequate parents, shared the baby's pain.

It had been born in the worst circumstances Snape could imagine. He would be lenient with it.

He transfigured a pebble into a sharp blade and quickly cut the long, stringy worm that connected the baby to its deceased mother. Not wanting to use a harsh cleaning spell on the infant's fragile body, he tore a piece of Jane Davenport's cloth and wiped the infant with it. He noted that it was a girl.

A sentimental part of him that had survived the purging of his youth struck the now-adult-man.

Jane Davenport's significant other had failed to protect her and her child. Snape had spared her torture and now was in the process of saving her child.

Unchecked jealousy and rage surfaced once again.

This child was not his, but he claimed her. He was nineteen years old, and she, just a babe, but the age difference was slight in the wizarding world. He would mark her so he would recognize her one day, in the far and distant future.

Time whispered to him.

Time took him years past, to when he was eight years old.

Eileen Prince, his mother, had taken him into her arms, in a rare moment of affection. She had read Shakespeare aloud to him, and he remembered fixating on one of the bit characters, a female, Hermione.

Hermione. It sounded beautiful as he said it aloud, and there would be no other witch her age that would bear the same name and--a Muggle name.

He would set her apart as a Muggleborn to exact his final revenge on Mr. Davenport, whoever he was.

This had to be done. And quickly.

He Disapparated with the screaming infant still in his arms and appeared at the outside of a Muggle orphanage.With his wand, he exploded the door and left the baby at the entrance. And performing the last bit of magic he would do that night, he transfigured a shrapnel from the imploded door into a piece of paper.

A green ink flowed out of his wand, and the paper glowed, incandescent. When the light receded, two words written in Snape's spidery, green scrawl remained:

_Hermione Jane_

They couldn't miss that.

Snape Disapparated, not waiting to see that the infant was safely taken in. He returned to the body of the late Jane Davenport, and without betraying a flicker of emotion, he buried the body by agentle stream not a great distance from where she had been murdered.

_One month later_

**October 25th, 1979 **

**Lupin and Snape are nineteen **

**James and Sirius are twenty **

He was suffering heavily from shortness of breath. There was nothing more daring, nothing more terrifying than what he was about to attempt. No one, not even Dumbledore, knew of this horrible, senseless scheme of his. Again, he wondered why he was doing this. Justice?

He didn't particularly care for sanguinary prejudices. He wasn't righteous, and he knew that a score to even with Aaron Quirinius Potter simply wasn't enough provocation to be a valid reason for what could possibly be the stupidest thing attempted on the earth.

Or bravest. Godric Gryffindor himself would have looked on admiringly, while Salazar Slytherin shook his head in horrified amusement.

He steadied his breathing, not daring to adjust his heavy cloak as he lay hidden among the trees, quietly observing the Death Eaters' meeting, making sure that he was not too close that the Dark Lord would easily pick up on him with his Legilimens skills.

He was witnessing a reprehensible act, one that made his skin crawl for it was a deep betrayal taking place before his eyes.

His better judgment told him that he should anonymously pass this information along to the Potters, or to Dumbledore at the very least. Still, his own selfishness propelled him to wait until the perfect opportunity.

Wait until the squeaky voice of Peter Pettigrew diminished into the smoky night, slightly illuminated by the green firelight crackling in the center of the Death Eater circle.

Wait until one by one, each of the Death Eaters Disapparated.

Wait until the Dark Lord himself slowly turned to his right hand man to disappear to Merlin knew where. It was at that moment, just as the Dark Lord was in that space between his starting point and his destination—the cold, pressurized infinity—that Regulus Black struck.

He dug into the Dark Lord's mind for that almost invisible fraction of time and got the last coordinate. The last coordinate to the cave where he would destroy another vestibule of the Dark Lord's immortality without his Lordship even noticing…he wanted to laugh with astonishment.

How could the Dark Lord be so blissfully unaware of his fast approaching mortality…?

_Three and a half months later _

**February 13th, 1980 **

**Lupin is nineteen**

**James, Sirius, and Snape are twenty **

He Apparated, soaking wet, pale, and shaking with unbridled terror. He was still a Hogwarts student, in his seventh year, just eighteen years old, and he was sure he was going to die.

He had been mauled by grisly corpses, chased across a lethal lake, and nearly killed himself trying to destroy the golden locket that was Lord Voldemort's Horcrux.

The locket proved to be indestructible however, and he was left with no choice but to wildly bury it in some remote location in the forest, heavily concealed with undetectable, ancient magic he had ripped from a page in one of Dumbledore's heavily guarded books.

The job incomplete, but almost finished, he stumbled through the dark forest, clutching his sides in agony. He had been injured heavily by the Dark Lord's defenses, but he was convinced that it was in a good name.

After seeing an "authentic" replica of Salazar Slytherin's locket hanging from the neck of the Muggle born Lily Evans, he had been thoroughly convinced that it was one of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes.

It made perfect sense. It explained why he favored her so and was hesitant to order an outright attack on her. Regulus Black still didn't know why Evans possessed a thousand year old replica of Slytherin's relic, but it was a deeper mystery he felt he could leave unsolved. It didn't matter anyway.

There was a green light shining in the distance, and with Regulus' defenses completely gone, the Dark Lord was sure to pick up on him within a few moments. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

At least one day, someone would find the Horcrux. One day, that person would manage to destroy it and then perhaps—perhaps his mission would not have been carried out in vain. He had realized one thing about himself.

This whole thing _was_ about the Potters. It was about him and his family, and most of all, it was about his insatiable guilt.

His guilt about his elder brother, Sirius, his guilt about his reprehensible, shrill mother, the emaciated house elves, the stricken looks of terror and grief on the Hogwarts students he had seen ridiculed for their Muggle descent for the first time in their lives, his guilt about the lying, the cowardice, the selfishness, the cunning manner he had spent the better part of his life under…

Most of all, his score with Aaron Potter. Aaron Potter would have no choice but to lament the loss of Regulus Black after all he had done for the Potter family.

He alone would have to mourn Regulus and martyr him, celebrating his memory and goodness, when everybody else would have just considered him the Black who joined up with the Death Eaters and gotten his foolish self killed.

He gasped as he was pulled away into cold, crushing space. The green fire was so close now, that he could touch it…a high, cold voice echoed from somewhere….

_One month later _

**March 14th, 1980 **

**Lupin is nineteen **

**James, Sirius, and Snape are twenty **

"Such terrible tragedies," his wife sighed, her voice small and profoundly sorrowful. "I am so afraid, James. What is going to happen to us, to all our friends, and…Harry?"

The beautiful, dark red-headed woman lightly placed her hand on her slightly protruding stomach. She was already five months pregnant, but her black dress robes slimmed her down nicely. Unfortunately, she was dressed to mourn death.

James said nothing. The event of his parents' death and the turning up of Sirius' younger brother's corpse had shaken him to his very core.

All deaths were products of Voldemort's reign of terror, and every day his fear heightened, the fear of coming home one day from work, expecting to relax in his wife's arm and only finding ruins and a Dark Mark.

Lily stood from her dresser, having finished polishing her formerly tarnished locket.

"Are you ready?" she said gently to her husband, placing an arm around his shoulder to steady him as they sat on their bed's precarious edge.

James stared at the floor for only a moment longer and then crisply nodded in agreement. He had to be strong for his wife.

_This story is undergoing intensive reconstruction due to several factors some of them being, quality of writing, factual/canon evidence, chronological listings, etc. Your patience is greatly appreciated, and be sure to read through the entire story once this author's note is taken down. _


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